Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Annika
“Edik,” Kirill’s deep voice snaps like a whip, and the bodyguard moves his hardened gaze off me.
My art taught me to be perceptive of details, but I don’t need to be an artist to catch Edik’s penetrative, constant perusal of me.
He’d been like this the last two weeks. Before I would only see him for a few seconds here and there; a trace of Kirill’s shadow.
But the last few days? Edik is closer and more visible than ever, always watching me with his Pakhan.
Something is wrong. Something my husband- or anyone else- isn’t telling me. Yana’s watchful presence used to be enough, but not anymore. It’s as if the man was trying to catch me in something, but what, I have no idea.
“Ignore him,” Kirill urges by my side, squeezing my hand. “He’s just in a bad mood.”
I want to believe him, want to smile prettily like a good little mafia wife, but instead I turn my head toward the blacked out limousine’s window.
We’re almost to my art show, and if my nerves weren’t rattled enough by that, Edik’s gaze did it.
It doesn’t help that my morning sickness is growing more frequent, or that my pregnancy hormones have kept me trapped in a strange tug of war between heavy arousal and paranoia.
“Devochka.”
The deep, gentle command of Kirill’s voice as he says the word has me looking back to him, as if I can’t control myself. And I can’t. Not when he uses that tone.
His piercing blue eyes are kind as I look at them, and he brings my hand to his mouth. Damn it if that small kiss to my knuckles doesn’t send shockwaves through my system; both amping me up and calming me at the same time.
“Your show is going to be amazing,” he tells me.
I can’t help the small smile I give him, and I give into my wants and lean into him.
“It’s not that,” I tell him, already feeling tired. “I just don’t feel my best.”
“Then we’ll make an appearance, meet and greet the potential buyers, then we’ll go,” Kirill replies.
I let out a weary laugh, shaking my head against his shoulder.
“I don’t think Max is going to allow that,” I reply.
I feel the muscles beneath Kirill’s black on black suit stiffen into marble.
“Max won’t have a choice,” he answers. His tone is smooth. Cool. It holds a whisper of menace that I can’t help but like. Because that menace is there to protect me.
We pull up to my art show, a refurbished pre-war building that has a large group of people standing in front of it. I frown as I take in the crowd.
“Is there another event here tonight?” I ask as Edik opens the door for us. He and Yana check the perimeter, making sure it’s safe, then Yana beckons us.
“No, devochka,” Kirill replies, helping me out of the limousine, “I invited our families. I wanted to show them your hard work.”
I feel a little intimidated as I take in faces familiar and new.
I’ve drawn a crowd before with my work, but not like this.
Not enough to cause a line around the block and worry the New York City Labor and Industry board for over-occupancy.
My stomach clenches a little at the sight, and I’m not sure if it's my morning sickness or my nerves that has me ready to lose my dinner.
“I have you,” Kirill whispers into my ear. “And you look beautiful. You have nothing to fear, devochka.”
My anxiety slides away from me like its water, and I take a calming breath.
“I’m beautiful because of you,” I whisper back, and it earns me a deep, throaty chuckle from Kirill.
Except for when I’m working in my studio, I’ve gotten into the habit of letting Kirill pick my clothes.
Tonight he chose a floor-length, loose-fitting white dress with a plunging neckline, a slit up the leg that runs all the way up to my thigh, and thin straps at the shoulders.
A bold, red slash of color runs diagonally along the dress and matches my high heels perfectly.
Small diamond studs grace my earlobes and around my neck, the million dollar necklace that Kirill bought at the auction. A gift he gave me earlier that day. That probably added to my nerves as well. I’m not used to wearing so much money around my throat.
I curled my long, dark blond hair until it sat in even waves along my shoulders and down my breasts, and for make-up I used a more natural palette, save for my lipstick. Like my shoes and splash of color on my white dress, it’s a brilliant red.
We make our way inside the building, replying with polite smiles and head nods to the many that welcome us, and I feel like absolute royalty as Kirill brings me into the stark white and brick gallery.
“Annika, my God!” Max calls when he spots me through the crowd.
Before he can make it to me, Kirill, Yana, and Edik steps between us, and I don’t have to see his face to know that he’s giving Max a lethal stare.
“So,” my husband muses. “You’re the one that has been making my wife anxious.”
I peer around the wall of wide shoulders and see Max’s wide eyes and shocked expression, and I can’t help but feel a little pleased.
Serves you right for pushing this on me.
“Well, I see what your inspiration was for the blue marble,” Max says after he gets over his shock. “You must be Annika’s husband. Mr. Pavlovich. I should be thanking you. So should Annika.”
I glance up to Kirill’s face and notice the minute shifts in his expression. He’s surprised, perhaps even a little caught off guard at the strange praise and introduction. Max holds out a hand toward my husband, but he doesn’t take it. Only keeps giving Max that intimidating stare.
“I’m sorry,” Max apologizes, then sweeps his rebuffed hand around the room. “But look at this! Annika, your work is already sold out! And I’ve got a list as long as my arm for commissions.”
I step around my husband’s large figure, not able to believe my ears.
“Really?” I ask.
“Yes, darling, yes!” Max gushes, relaxing a little as he sees me. “And now that you’re here I don’t doubt that list will double.”
He rakes his eyes down my body and his smile widens.
“God, you look gorgeous. You’re glowing. Positively.”
I hear a soft, possessive growl rumble in the back of Kirill’s throat at Max’s praise, and I put a hand on his arm. His gaze shoots to me and when he sees the calm expression on my face, he backs down.
That’s my good mafia king, I can’t help but think, and giggle aloud at the thought.
“Thank you, Max, that’s very kind,” I say to my art dealer.
Kirill backs down from his protective stance and steps aside, allowing Max and I to hug.
“You’re going to make us very rich, darling,” Max whispers into my ear. “I’ll tell you later what your pieces sold for. It’s insane!”
My smile grows wider, and I give my arm to Max, letting him lead me around to the many people he wants to introduce me to as Kirill, Edik, and Yana trail close behind.
Soon my world is filled with praises and conversations.
People want to know who I am, what my inspiration is, when they can purchase my time for commissioned work, and after a few hours of this, my head is spinning.
Not from anxiety, but delight. My dreams of making my art a staple in New York City were actually coming true.
“I need a break,” I tell Max.
I’m surprised when he doesn’t push me this time.
“You’ve earned it,” he tells me, patting my hand.
“I believe I saw your family over by the blue marble piece. Go say hello, relax a little.”
“Thank you, Max,” I say as he leaves us.
I then turn to Kirill, all smiles as I meet his approving gaze.
“Congratulations, devochka,” he praises as he takes my arm, “You’re doing beautifully.”
I beam at him as I lean into his hold.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, leading me to my father and sister. “Are you tired? Do you want something to eat? To drink?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” I reply. “But I want to say hello to my family before we leave, thank them for coming.”
“I’ll send Edik to the kitchen,” Kirill tells me, “Get you something to nibble and sip on. Then we’ll go to a restaurant after we leave and get you something more substantial.”
I nod, and Kirill turns to Edik and gives the orders. He disappears immediately, though he doesn’t look happy about it.
“Yana?” Max calls behind us.
We all turn around, surprised, and see Max standing beside the sculpture Yana inspired.
Max hurries over to us.
“I have a person dying to meet you,” he explains to Yana. “I told them you were the inspiration for the red piece and they are in awe. Would you please come over and say hello?”
Yana, my stoic powerhouse of a bodyguard blushes, actually blushes, and looks toward Kirill.
“I don’t think-” Kirill starts to say, but I squeeze his arm.
“Let her,” I whisper to him. “Edik will be back any second.”
Kirill gives me a reticent look, but nods.
“Be quick,” he commands, and he and I turn the corner into the small space where my family and the sculpture Kirill inspired are nestled.
My happiness wavers instantly the moment I see my father and sister.
Neither of them look well, even as my father gives me a warm smile and approaches me with a hug and kisses to my cheeks.
Kirill must notice it too, because as soon as Yulian lets go of me, my husband is urging my father to come talk to him.
“Valya,” I whisper as my sister and I are left alone. “What’s going on? Are you okay? Is Papa?”
Valya gives me an offended look, and stirs the speared olive in her martini.
“We’re fine,” she shoots back, “Sorry we can’t look as radiant as you.”
I shoot her a glare.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” I whisper. “I just-”
A loud bang explodes through the building, followed by quake, and my words and thoughts are interrupted as I’m suddenly flailing for balance.
“Valya!” I shout, reaching for her as the lights go out. I claw into empty air and fall forward, landing hard on my hands and knees.
“Annika?” Kirill’s voice resounds through the sudden screams surrounding me, “Annika!”
“Kirill!!!” I scream, feeling panic start to close in on me.
Gentle hands close around my shoulders and I breathe a sigh of relief as I’m being pulled to my feet.
“Kirill,” I sigh, leaning into a hard body.
“Sorry, bitch,” A deep unfamiliar voice says in my ear as a I feel a pinch at my neck, “Wrong man.”
I let out a scream, fear pouring through my veins, but before I can even start to fight, my legs give out, and the last thing I hear before I lose consciousness is Kirill screaming my name.