Chapter 23 #3
“I’m Polina Kopolova, formerly Romanova. My mother’s arranged for you and Rodion to have a room on the third floor so you can regroup and get a little rest before tonight.” She snorts. “It’s the room marked with white balloons. She’s so cute.”
I shake her hand. “Ah, thank you. Wait, so you’re the one who joined these two families together?”
“Oh, well…” she begins hesitantly. “I… am still in the process of trying.”
“And doing an excellent job,” Yana says. “Old habits die hard and all that. You know how pigheaded our brothers are.” She rolls her eyes.
“Yup. Listen, Mom needs me in the kitchen. We’ll catch up later? We have so much to do,” Polina says. “Mom gets a bit frantic before the gala.”
“They do it every year,” Zoya explains. “It’s epic.”
“We have to,” Polina continues as she turns to head to the kitchen. “It’s our way of keeping local people pleased with us and keeping money in the community coffers.” She gives me a slight grimace. “Believe me, it helps.”
She flits to the kitchen as Rodion joins Rafail and Semyon. I sit heavily in a chair. The dress I’m wearing feels so heavy, too stunning, too extravagant for someone like me, like a costume for a role I haven’t rehearsed.
Rodion’s in a heated conversation with Rafail, even as his gaze constantly assesses the situation. I watch him eye every exit, every window, and every person who walks in the room.
“When will people start arriving for the gala?” I ask Zoya. Yana’s gone off with her husband, and I’m left alone with the shy youngest sister.
She bites one of her nails thoughtfully. “Hmm. Shortly after they’re supposed to, is my guess.”
“Oh?”
“Mmm,” she says with a nod. “These are not the types who show up early for events.” She rolls her eyes. “Everyone has to make an entrance.” She sips a glass of champagne. “It isn’t here, though, but offsite in a gallery or something?”
“Did you ask Rafail for permission for that, Zoya?” Rodion quirks a brow at her.
Zoya’s cheeks flush adorably pink. “They poured it for me.”
My heart thumps at the way he quirks a brow at her. Rodion as big brother is so damn cute.
He gives her a stern look. “Do you think Rafail would take that as an excuse?”
Zoya sighs. “Rodi.”
“He wouldn’t mind a little champagne, would he? It’s our wedding,” I tell him, my hand on his chest. Seems ironic a man who deals in everyday illegal activity would balk at his sister having a little bubbly.
“You really don’t know Rafail,” Rodion says with a grimace, scratching at his jaw. “Make it your last, Zoya.”
She nods. Poor kid. It must be insufferable to be under the watchful eye of all those bossy brothers.
Before I can wade in and defend her, his phone buzzes. He glances down, his body tensing.
“Something wrong?” I try to peek at the screen. I swear to god, if Shawn—
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he replies, slipping his phone in his pocket.
“If it’s Shawn…”
“Ember. I said I’ll handle it. Trust me.” I place my champagne down and press my hand to his chest. I can feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath my palm just before his hand closes over mine, trapping it against his heartbeat.
I draw in a deep breath, and I… release it.
Whoosh.
Can I trust him?
He kisses my cheek.
“I need to step out a minute.”
I nod. “Polina said they have a room upstairs for us to rest in if we want to.”
Of course, red-blooded alpha male that he is, he wiggles his eyebrows at me. “I would love to rest.” He somehow puts air quotes around the word rest.
“Rodi.” I stifle a giggle, repeating Zoya’s nickname for him just because I love the way his eyes narrow in on me.
“Call me that again, little queen.” He clucks his tongue at me. “Go, Ember. Rest. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
But it’s hard to rest knowing Shawn is out there, that he’s never going to walk away from me, knowing I shunned him and knowing that I just married into the Bratva.
What does that even mean?
I consider taking the dress off, but in the end, keep it on because… well, if I’m honest, I want Rodion to take it off. So sue me if I still have book boyfriend fantasies I want to live out.
I lie in the bed, propped up on a variety of pillows, and pull out my phone. My heart rate races when I see I got another message from Shawn.
I put the phone down.
I pick it up again.
I stare at it as if it’s a lethal snake about to bite me.
I finally click the message to read it, despite everything in me screaming at me not to.
Shawn
You looked beautiful today. White always suited you. You look beautiful now. Careful not to wrinkle the dress, Ember
I sit up in bed, my heart racing. Footsteps sound outside the door. I try to remember everything about self-defense, but I haven’t practiced, and my mind is a blank of nerves and fear.
Oh god.
Oh god.
I look wildly around the room, but it’s just a simple guest room, well-appointed but simple. Pillows, blankets, and—my eyes come to rest on a bottle of champagne on the dresser.
I could break it. If I have to, I can use it as a weapon, and I could—
The door handle jingles. Someone pounds at the door. I scream.