23. Lila
Lila
There’s a dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door when I wake up. I stare at it, confused.
And then, it dawns on me.
He bought me a dress for the party. We had talked about the fact that I didn’t have a black-tie-worthy dress. I didn’t even know what that meant until he explained. I had offered to stay upstairs. I don’t know how to mingle with rich people.
In the back of my mind, I was a little nervous. Maksim promised me that it was safe. Security would be tight. No one would get through unless he personally approved them.
That part I believed, but the part I couldn’t get my head around was me. I don’t know how to schmooze and be elegant.
I get out of his bed to inspect the dress. It’s got thin straps and a low back. It’s very delicate. Very not me.
I’m suddenly very aware of myself. I walk into his massive bathroom and stare at my reflection. He picked a dress for me because I couldn’t be trusted to pick the right one for myself. Is that what he wants me to look like? Dress like? Is he making me into one of his girls?
I feel self-conscious. Small. Unworthy.
It hurts.
I spend most of the day checking on the horses and staying out of the way.
Caterers and security are everywhere. They put up a tent in the backyard, along with more tables and chairs.
I feel the energy in the air. Maksim was gone when I woke up, and he hasn’t returned.
I really wanted to discuss the dress with him.
Instead, I go through the motions. At least, I try, with the help of YouTube. I’ve never done the glamour thing. My makeup has always been basic. My hairstyle is the quickest ponytail I can pull together without worrying about middle parts and flyaways.
It’s both strange and exciting to get dolled up.
An hour later, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror in the guest room.
I don’t recognize myself. My hair is down, which it rarely is. I’m wearing the heels that were left in a box beside the dress. Sparkling silver with a thin strap around the ankle. They’re not as impossible as they look. I’ve had worse footing on uneven ground in the dark.
I look at the woman looking back at me. Woman. Not a cowgirl with dirty jeans and messy hair. An honest-to-God woman.
I tug at the hem that hits mid-thigh. My legs are strong and tan from working outside, and nothing about them looks delicate. I’ve got a scrape on my left knee from the parking garage, but it’s barely visible. The road rash on my arm has faded to pink.
I look like a beautiful disaster.
By the time I arrive downstairs, I barely recognize the backyard.
String lights are laced through every tree along the back terrace.
The pool glows a brilliant blue. Round tables with white linens cover the lawn.
Catering staff in uniform move around, carrying trays.
Bartenders in black stand behind a long, temporary bar near the far garden wall.
Flowers are everywhere, white and cream and pale green.
Music pumps through speakers I can’t see.
It looks like a magazine spread. It’s a world I’ve only seen in the movies.
Men in suits huddle in groups. They’re all so confident. I feel the wealth oozing around the space. Beautiful women circulate among the crowd. I don’t think they’re guests who’ll be investing in Maksim’s new club.
They’re dressed to impress, and they know how to move through a room and make a man feel like the most important person in it. They’re professionals.
I take a glass of champagne from a passing tray just to have something to do with my hand.
Then, I see Maksim.
He’s across the terrace near the main bar, deep in conversation with two men. He’s in a dark suit, with a black shirt and black tie. His hair is pushed back, and his jaw is clean-shaven for once. He looks like money. He looks like the kind of man who is very comfortable at parties like this.
He’s laughing at something one of the men said. Not his real laugh. I know his real laugh. He touches the taller man on the shoulder, and the man beams as if he’s been knighted.
I watch him work the room.
He moves from one group to the next with that slightly disheveled charm that makes him seem so approachable. Friendly. I’ve seen the darker side.
A woman in a red dress laughs too loudly at something he says. I watch as she puts her hand on his arm and leans in. He tilts his head toward her and smiles like she’s the only person he’s interested in.
I take a long sip of champagne.
I almost choke. I’ve never had real champagne. I had some on New Year’s once, but it was from the gas station; cheap and way too sweet. This stuff isn’t bad, but it's bubbly, and it goes straight up my nose and down my throat at the same time.
I’m not the kind of woman who falls apart because her husband is charming at a party. I knew what he was before I asked him to have sex with me. I know our marriage isn’t real.
I don’t get to be jealous.
But damn, these people don’t know that. I’m wearing his fucking ring, and that woman is giving him “fuck me” eyes.
I drift toward the edge of the pool, careful of how and where I walk. I don’t want to fall on my ass and humiliate myself in front of all these dignified people.
“You look like you’re calculating how many people you could outrun in those shoes.”
I turn to see Ava walking toward me, carrying a glass of champagne. She’s wearing a blue dress that fits her like a second skin. Of course, she’s stunning. Her curves belong on a runway, and she knows just how to use them.
“I’d settle for out-walking someone.”
“You look gorgeous.”
“I look like someone put me in a costume.”
“Everyone looks like someone put them in a costume; that’s the whole point.” She sips her drink. “How many glasses is that?”
I look at my champagne. Is a sex worker really going to lecture me about underage drinking? “My first.”
“Smart. Don’t go past three. These things run long. The men will try to get you drunk. Never take a drink from anyone except the staff.”
I watch Maksim steer one of the men in suits toward a table near the far garden, where Damien is waiting with a folder, the woman in the red dress, and two other men I don’t recognize. It’s all business. Even the beautiful women.
“He’s good at this,” I observe.
Ava follows my gaze. “He’s exceptional at this. This is what he’s best at.” She tilts her glass slightly toward the crowd. “Making people feel safe handing him their money and their trust. People like him. It’s how he’s become the businessman he is. That, and he makes them richer.”
“It feels deceptive.”
“He’s working, Lila. Every handshake tonight is a deal. He’s not flirting with the woman in red because he wants her. He’s flirting with her because her husband is the man in the grey suit, two feet away. They have a unique relationship.”
I look at the man in the grey suit. He’s watching his wife laugh with Maksim, and he looks pleased. Proud, even. Like the attention being paid to his wife reflects well on him.
“They want him for a threesome?” I am unable to hide my horror.
She laughs. “Oh, she wants it, but her husband will never allow it. He lets her have fun with one of us.”
I turn to look at her. “One of you?”
Ava smiles. “We don’t judge.”
I do. This is a whole new world.
I look back at Maksim. He’s beautiful and legally mine, but I’m not sure that’s good enough.
He looks up. His eyes find mine like he knew where I was standing.
He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t look away. Several seconds pass. I see my husband in that moment. The man who holds me all night and whispers things in Russian when he thinks I’m sleeping.
Then someone says his name, and it’s gone.
“Go talk to him,” Ava says.
“He’s working.”
"He's been keeping an eye on you since you came downstairs. I saw him clock you the second you walked out. He's been tracking you all night."
I finish my glass of champagne, and when another tray passes, I take a second. Ava gives me a look. I arch a brow and sip. "We all have to learn in our own way. Good luck. I have to get to work."
I watch her saunter off, hips swaying seductively in her five-inch heels. I wish I could walk like that.
The evening stretches on. The champagne helps. I make small talk with strangers and watch women fawn all over my husband. I eat something small and expensive off a tray. And then, I eat something breaded and sweet because Ava said I had to.
I think I’m buzzed. I feel good. Light and loose.
I end up near the pool bar, leaning against the edge while I watch the crowd. Okay, him.
And her.
Some woman has been glued to Maksim’s side for the past fifteen minutes. She’s rubbing against him like a cat in heat.
Before I can seethe for too long, another man is there to talk to me. This is how it’s been all night. I play nice. Do my best to give a shit about The Hamptons and whatever other nonsense these people gossip about.
I’m on my fourth glass of champagne when a hand gently grabs my elbow.
“Hey there,” Maksim’s voice comes from just behind me.
I jerk my elbow away. “You stink.”
“Excuse me?”
“You smell like flowers. Women’s perfume.”
He pulls me away from the bar and the mingling people. “Lila, how much have you had to drink?”
“How many women have you fondled?” I retort.
“Lila.” His voice carries a warning.
I could play the jealous woman, or I could fight fire with fire. I’ll always choose the latter. It’s in my DNA.
I grab his tie and jerk him toward me. The heels help, but I still have to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes.
I slam my mouth against his, opening wide and plunging my tongue into his mouth.
He kisses me back for three seconds before he closes his hands around my upper arms, and he pushes me firmly away.
I stare at him with confusion and maybe a little hurt. He’s pissed. At me.
“Don’t do that again,” he says quietly.
“Don’t do what?” I ask. “Kiss my husband?”
“Not like that. Not here.”
“You mean not when you’ve spent all night letting women rub all over you.”
“It’s business.”
“Right.” I roll my eyes and wipe his kiss from my lips. “I forgot. I’m the wife. I stand in the corner and look pretty in the dress you chose for me, and I don’t make scenes. That’s my job.”
His expression doesn’t change. “You’ve been drinking.”
“It’s a party. Aren’t we supposed to drink? Maybe I should be friendlier with your guests.”
“You won’t touch another man.”
“I’m not good enough for you to pimp out?”
“Stop it.”
“You’re a pimp,” I say with disgust. “A pimp and a drug runner. A mobster.”
“Careful,” he warns.
“Why? Am I wrong?” I spread my arms. “This is all very elegant, Maksim. Very pretty. But I know what’s under it.”
“You don’t know anything about what’s under it.”
“I know enough.” I meet his eyes. “I know you let a woman get beaten in one of your houses this week. I know girls are leaving because they’re scared.
I know someone set your stables on fire and killed a man in a parking garage because of the business you run.
I’m not judging you for what you are. But don’t stand here and look at me like I’m the problem. ”
For once, he has nothing to say.
And then, “I’m done with this conversation.”
“Of course, you are.”
He straightens his tie and gestures to one of his men. I watch him disappear into the crowd, and then I’m guided into the house through a side exit.
“Get off me.” I jerk my arm away.
The men say nothing. I could pitch a fit, but I’m over it. I kick off my heels and leave them in the middle of the hall. I climb the back stairs, gripping the railing as I walk to my room. I will not be in his bed tonight, or maybe ever again.
I don’t know how to exist in this world. I’m not sure I ever will.