38

Maria
I don’t know why I wore a satin dress. This isn’t the prom, not that I went. The material is already wrinkled, and we haven’t left the limo. Smoothing it with my hand is not helping. I look like a peach throw pillow that’s burst open and been put back together with double-stick tape.
We’ve driven almost an hour and still haven’t arrived. My right leg bobs up and down like a piston until the limo passes through a pair of towering ironwork gates leading down a drive to a massive mansion.
I jump when a man with an earpiece peers into the tinted window directly at me. The only thing separating us is the glass. Intricate tattoos cover his hands and neck, and my heart sticks in my throat. He eyes me warily and then Mikhail.
Mikhail barely turns his head as he continues talking with Rurik, Larissa’s husband. Rurik lifts his hand and motions the man away.
The man taps on the window, motioning for the window to lower. I slowly move closer to Mikhail, and he looks over.
“What does he want?” he asks Rurik.
“Our guns.” Rurik rolls his eyes and starts cursing.
“It’s fine, Rurik.” Mikhail nods, and hands his gun to Rurik. “Make sure he doesn’t lose it.”
Rurik enters the limo again a minute later and frowns when he glances at me. It’s not my fault, but he doesn’t care. I tremble, looking at Rurik. His cold blue eyes ignore me now, but I remember the first time I met him and how he served at Mikhail’s every beck and call.
“Maria, are you all right?” Larissa presses her hand on my knee to keep it still.
The conversation in the limo stops, and everyone looks at me expectantly. “I’m okay,” I whisper.
Larissa turns to Mikhail. “It’s just nerves,” and then she smiles at her husband. “I remember how nervous I was before we married.”
Rurik’s chiseled jaw, typically set in a severe line, now softens as his lips curl into a warm smile. The coldness in his eyes melts away into tenderness as he gazes at Larissa. Despite his scary attitude, his expression displays affection and adoration that only Larissa can inspire.
I wish I had something like that.
“No.” The sound of my voice interrupts their moment. “No, I’m …”
They all stare at me as I swallow my words. I breathe nervously. “Yes, I’m just nervous.”
Larissa smiles warmly as she pats my cheek. “You’ll be all right, Maria.”
I feel Mikhail staring at me and then at my dress. Before we left the penthouse, he asked if Dominika had helped me dress. When I said yes, Mikhail looked confused and then, shrugging slightly, he walked off.
Following Larissa out of the limo, I step awkwardly through the tall wooden doors into the massive mansion in the Berkshires. Larissa assures me that the owner, Sonia Karamazov, is thrilled to host my wedding shower, and more importantly, to welcome me into the family.
Family … I think bitterly. She means the Bratva.
“Are you and Sonia related?” I whisper to Larissa as we pass a security guard standing in the hallway.
“Sonia is related to the Barinovs,” Larissa answers. “She’s Andrei Barinov’s half sister.”
“Are the Barinovs here?” I ask.
“They’re out of town.” Larissa’s forehead wrinkles slightly.
Larissa enters the ballroom and quickly moves toward a guest. I’m left standing alone under the archway decorated with gold and silver balloons.
The entire room is loaded with white and gold accents in every corner. Round tables are draped in gold tablecloths and topped with white rose centerpieces. The air is filled with a mixture of expensive perfumes and, surprisingly, the earthy scent of freshly cut grass floating in from the open French doors. A chandelier hangs above, casting a kaleidoscope of tiny rainbows onto the ceiling. I tap a gold balloon floating along the wall, and it bounces across the white tile floor.
I look around for Mikhail, but he’s talking to several men in the hall. They stand in a circle. Tall, broad-shouldered, clean-cut, and every one of them Russian. I don’t have the nerve to interrupt.
My gaze catches on one of the men who came to the penthouse to ask me questions. The men Mikhail calls his brigadiers. I’m surprised to see them here at our shower. The way they acted, I assumed they wouldn’t approve of our wedding. When the stocky bulldog-looking one named Gunsyn winks at me, I look away quickly.
He laughs loudly so that I can hear.
The guests all seem to know one another. They pretend to ignore me, but they stare as I walk further into the room.
Dressed in designer gowns and dripping in diamonds, the women possess confidence and sophistication that makes me feel out of place despite the fact that it’s my party. I tug at the sleeves of my dress, suddenly aware of how childish I must look.
All I need is a pair of black Mary Janes and white ankle socks to complete the look.
I force myself to lift my gaze and scan the crowd for a friendly face among the judgmental eyes.
“Maria!” Larissa calls out from across the room. Her voice is like a lifeline in this hostile place. She waves me over to where she stands with one other woman. As I walk toward them, an old woman in too much makeup tries to hand me her empty wineglass.
I show her my hand. “I’m not staff.”
She sneers at me as if I should be and walks off with an attitude.
It’s difficult to ignore the dirty looks aimed at me. I take a deep breath and plaster a phony smile on my face. I don’t belong here. I’m an intruder in their tight-knit world of privilege and sin.
A woman with perfect hair whispers to her friend, “Darling, someone really should have found her a more appropriate dress.” Her voice lifts a little in case I didn’t hear. “It’s not a child’s birthday party.”
“Must be one of Mikhail’s charity cases,” another woman murmurs, her eyes raking over me. “The Ivanovs support a lot of charitable causes.” The laughter that follows feels like a punch in the gut.
Through the obstacle course of nastiness, I reach Larissa without incident in one piece, some wounded pride notwithstanding.
“Maria,” Larissa smiles at me and then at the beautiful woman standing next to her. “This is Sonia. Our gracious host.”
Sonia Karamazov has a reassuring smile that eases some of my anxiety. She wears a simple navy dress with a single diamond bracelet and matching earrings. She doesn’t need much else with that gorgeous mane of long blonde hair.
“Thank you for inviting me,” I reply, forcing a smile onto my lips. “Your home is beautiful.”
“Invite you?” Sonia laughs. “Thank you for allowing me to host your party. I’ve been out of the loop after enough bad romances.” Sonia nudges Larissa’s shoulder. “But I’m ready to socialize again.”
“Isn’t this just lovely?” Larissa asks, gesturing to the room. “Sonia really went all out, Maria. An ice sculpture in the summer?”
A huge koi is carved from a block of ice. Below it are pounds of shaved ice and all sorts of seafood. What a shame that I hate seafood.
“Maria?” Larissa says softly, gently pulling me back from my thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lie, forcing another smile. Deep down, everything is far from fine. I let this go too far. But how can I even stop it? I grab a champagne glass off a passing tray. I don’t like the sweet smell of it, but it’s a prop to keep my hands from shaking.
What I feel is part nerves and a touch of fury.