Chapter Twenty-Five
My mind is a mess. If someone had told me a month ago that I wouldbe kidnapped to another country, I would’ve laughed. If they had said not only was I kidnapped but that I also started fucking two of my captors, I would’ve broken their noses. And yet, here I am. In Russia, watching a mobster”s daughter try on dresses while I sip wine with her grandmother. It’s all very domesticated. This isn’t me. This isn’t who I am. I don’t just fall into bed with anyone.
“Unless their last name is Volkov, you mean,” Yvonne whispers.
A red-hot blush spreads across my face, reaching my neck. “Did I say that out loud?”
She nods, pushing her gray curls behind her ear.
Like I said, I’m a fucking mess. An embarrassing one.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her.
“It’s fine, dear. I was young once.”
“Right.”
I grip the stem of my wine glass. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m making a fool of myself.
“What do you think?” Lilianna says, stepping out from the curtain.
The dress she has on is a lime green and sparkly trainwreck. Aside from clinging to her still-developing curves, it does nothing for her.
“How do you feel about it?” Yvonne asks.
Lilianna purses her lips and looks at herself in the floor-length mirror. “It’s too…”
“Bright?” I offer.
Lilianna nods. “It’s not for me.”
“Try the next one,” Mama Volkov says. “Don’t waste time on something you hate.”
The lady who brought all the dresses to the house pulls the curtain back for Lilianna. She steps in behind her before closing the two of them in and leaving me with Yvonne.
“You’re really good with her,” I tell Yvonne.
Yvonne smiles at me. “She’s easy to love.”
“Easier than raising your boys, huh?”
“Perhaps. But raising a child is hard no matter what. I raised my three sisters back home before I was married off to Kaz’s father.”
“You’re not from Russia?”
She shakes her head. I’m surprised. She’s got a perfect Russian accent.
“I’m from France,” Yvonne replies. “A little town near Paris. My father married me off the moment I turned eighteen.”
“That must have been hard.”
I can’t imagine. I’m forever grateful to my father and my brother for changing that piece of mafia history and for believing that women are to be valued and respected. If my grandfather was still in charge, I would have been married off and popped a few kids out by now. I shudder at the thought.
“It is the way of life,” Mama Volkov says. “My husband was a tyrant, but I got Kaz out of it and two other sweet, loving boys.”
“Sweet?” I ask.
“They have their moments. Besides, Mikhail and Kaz must’ve been sweet enough to catch you.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I reply.
Maybe sinfully hot and dangerous, but not sweet.
“What would you say then? Because you seem very fond of Mikhail and Kaz.”
I clear my throat. Am I fond of them, or is it the sex? It has to be the sex. It’s been so long for me that it’s skewing my perspective, making me feel things that aren’t real. A psychiatrist would call that Stockholm syndrome, not love.
I’m saved from having to answer by Lilianna. She steps back into the room. Her bare feet patter against the hardwood. She’s in a hot pink princess dress. There’s so much tulle it’s hard for Lilianna to step up onto the platform. When Yvonne asked me to come to her wing of the house to help pick Lilianna’s dress, I wasn’t expecting to her to have a full dress shop set up, but she does.
“I hate it,” Lilianna mutters.
“It’s the color,” Yvonne says.
She turns to the seamstress and starts speaking Russian. I must make a face because Lilianna catches my eyes in the mirror.
“She’s telling her to take out the bright colors.”
I nod. “Jewel tones would work better on your skin tone.”
“But it’s a rave,” she says. “Everything has to be bright.”
“A classy rave, so not everything has to be neon,” I remind her.
“Silver or white will show up just as well under the black lights,” Yvonne replies. “Sasha is pulling some now.”
“There’s going to be a black light?”
“Of course,” Mama Volkov says.
“Sounds like a security nightmare. I can’t imagine Mikhail allowing that.”
Yvonne gives me a knowing smile. “You know my son well. And in such a short time, too.”
I look down, tempted to drain the rest of my drink. My mouth stays shut under Kaz’s mother”s gaze.
“He made me keep it to one half of the party. So there’s still light, and he can see everything, but she’s still getting what she wants.”
“Makes sense,” I reply.
Sasha appears, pulling Lilianna back behind the curtain. Yvonne sips her white wine. Her eyes are trained on the navy curtain Lilianna disappeared behind. I can feel the energy in the room change. The air drops slightly, heavy with whatever Yvonne is thinking about.
“You know,” she says, turning towards me on the blush pink couch. “Kaz and Mikhail might seem strong. Stoic even, but deep down, they’re good men. They have good hearts.”
All I can do is stare at her. “Okay?”
“You’re a sweet girl, Vivienne. Beautiful and strong. I respect you for that; I do. Just… don’t hurt my boys, okay?”
I lean back, not even trying to pretend like I don’t need a drink. Finishing off my glass, I take a deep breath.
“Yvonne, I don’t know what you think is going on between me and your sons, but it’s not serious. It’s just a distraction. You know, to pass the time while I’m here.”
She gives me a hard look. I can see the fire blazing in her eyes. “If that’s how you feel, you should tell them that. Stop it now before it goes any further.”
I’ve seen Mama Volkov angry before. But this is different. I feel like a small child being scolded for breaking a vase. Or, in this case, a heart. But how can I break hearts I don’t have? Mikhail and Kaz don’t want me forever. It would be insane of them, too. They barely know me, and I barely know them.
Lilianna steps back out. There’s a huge smile on her face as she climbs the platform. She holds her head high as she spins to show Yvonne and me the full dress. It’s silver, covered in sequins that flash beneath the lights. The dress is long. It fits Lilianna like it was custom-made for her.
It reminds me of my sweet sixteen dress. Mine was more sequin than dress, I think. It was powder blue and still the prettiest dress I’ve worn to this day. Well, it was until it ended up torn to pieces on the floor. My heart falters as memories of that night assault me.
I felt so beautiful that night. I can remember standing in front of the mirror, so excited and dreaming about my first kiss. If only.
“Do you like it?” Lilianna asks me.
I smile at her. “It’s beautiful, Lili.”
“Gorgeous,” Yvonne agrees. “It’s perfect for you. How do you feel?”
Lilianna twirls again; the hem of the dress scratches against the wood. “This is it. I want this one.”
“Perfect,” Yvonne says before turning to Sasha and speaking to her. “Go with Sasha, Lili. She’ll take your measurements so we can make the hem a little shorter.”
“Okay.”
The room falls quiet. I set my empty wine glass on the table beside the couch. Yvonne isn’t happy with me. I can feel it, but there’s nothing I can do. She wants her sons to marry, and since I’m a mafia princess, she probably thinks it’ll be a great match. Only she doesn’t know me or how dangerous I am. I’m only in Russia until my brother finds me or the Volkovs take me home. I would prefer the latter. If Declan shows up here, there will be bloodshed. I don’t want him to be the one to take the brother’s out. That’s my job.
“You may feel like it’s a fling,” Yvonne says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “But I can assure you Kaz does not feel that way. Don’t hurt him.”
I don’t know what to say. How can I promise not to hurt when that has been my goal since the moment he started hunting me in Vegas? I might not kill him now, but if what Yvonne is saying is true, then I’m going to hurt him no matter what when I leave here. There’s not a damn thing I can do about it either.
Standing up, I hold her gaze for a moment before making my way to the door. Guilt showers over me as I leave Yvonne’s wing. I feel like I’ve messed something up. As if I kidnapped myself and brought myself here just to fuck with the family dynamics. But none of this is on me. I never promised the Volkov brothers a thing. Certainly, not a future with me. If I stay here in Russia, who is going to wipe out the scum in Vegas? I can’t stay. I just can’t.
As I turn the corner, I run right into a wall that smells like alcohol. I look up to see Dmitri. Great. Just great. He’s wearing the same gray shirt he was wearing yesterday when I left him in the foyer. My hand is on his chest; it’s solid under my touch. His bleary eyes peer down at me.
“Did you bathe in vodka or something?” I ask, stepping away from him.
“Or something,” he murmurs, still staring at me.
I hum a response and walk around him.
“Where are you going? You just got here!” His voice is so slurred that the words are more like jumbled letters in a blender.
“So?” I toss over my shoulder.
Dmitri chases after me, his hefty footsteps giving him away. Before he can reach me, I stop and turn around.
“What do you want, Dmitri?”
His deep gray eyes marvel at me like I’m something special. “You are so beautiful.”
He smiles at me like an idiot. How much did he drink? This is a far cry from the usual uptight asshole I know.
“I’m not in the mood for games.”
“I know some games we can play.”
“How surprising,” I reply. “Go find someone else to play with.”
“You’re the only one I want to play with.”
“I’m sure,” I reply, turning on my heel. “Goodbye, Dmitri.”
Something snaps in him. He grabs me by my shoulders, pushing me against the wall. His dark eyes are feral and wide. Dmitri gets right in my face. His alcohol-scented breath suffocates me.
“No.”
“Excuse me?” I reply, trying to choke.
“No,” Dmitri repeats. “No, you don’t get to say goodbye. You don’t get to abandon me like she did. You don’t get to leave.”
He’s yelling by the last word; bits of spit land on my face. But I ignore it. Dmitri’s eyes show me a darkness I know well. He’s hurting. There’s a pain etched into his face. A raw vulnerability he tries desperately to hide. But tonight, he’s too drunk to do so. His grip tightens on my shoulders as he keeps me pinned to the wall.
A piece of me wants to push him off me. But how can I when I can feel his anguish radiating between us? His torment. It’s as thick as my own. I can’t leave him here while he drowns himself in alcohol and humiliation.
“Who left you, Dmitri?” I ask.
He sighs, laying his forehead on mine. His body trembles with silent sobs. For a long moment, we stand in the quiet. Until he finally speaks.
“My mother.”
“What happened to her?”
“I killed her.”