“From what I understand, you found the one a long time ago.” Menace laces Matvei’s voice, and we all hear it. Samson, however, doesn’t seem to be afraid.
His bride, Genevieve, looks us up and down, taking in everything from my dress to my makeup to my hair. “Beautiful dress,” she says. “Who’s the designer?”
“It was made specifically for me by a Russian seamstress,” I reply. I can barely breathe, but I force out the words.
“She’s also wearing my mother’s jewels,” Matvei says smugly. “The ones my father gave her for their twenty-fifth anniversary.”
Samson’s expression is frigid, and he and Matvei stare each other down. Animosity crackles between the two siblings, and for a moment, I wonder if I need to call for help. But then Samson mutters something under his breath, something I don’t catch. Whatever it is, Genevieve’s eyes widen before he turns and pushes his way through the crowd, leaving his new bride behind. She picks up her skirts and hurries after him, leaving us with one final look over her shoulder.
“What was that about?” I ask, looking at Matvei.
“The necklace and earrings you’re wearing are heirlooms. My father received them from his mother, who received them from her mother. And Samson’s mother expected my father to give them to her.”
My breath catches. I know the story. Samson had recounted it when he got drunk and started cursing the names of his mother, their father, and Matvei. He spoke about how his mother had an affair with Matvei’s father. How she thought the Russian crime lord would leave his wife for her and make her his queen, especially when she ended up pregnant. Instead, she fell from his grace and everyone else’s, and so did her family.
“You knew that would be a huge insult.”
Everything Matvei does is deliberate, but for some reason, I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that he didn’t tell me I was a part of this plot. I don’t mind getting back at Samson for all the hurt he’s caused me, but the jewelry is kind of ruthless, and I was his unwitting accomplice.
Matvei pulls me closer, and when I look up at him, I see he’s holding his brother’s gaze steadily from across the room.
“Come. Dance with me.”
Before I know it, he’s whisking me away toward the middle of the room and into his arms as we start moving across the dance floor in time to the other couples around us.
“Show everyone you’re mine.”
The words startle me, and I flick my gaze up to his. His attention is so intense, it’s as if he’s looking into my very soul. I know it’s just for show, but something about his statement feels real. Especially when I know no one else heard it.Especially when his attention is on no one else in the room but me.
12
SONYA
Matvei can dance. He leads me around the dance floor, every movement confident with the same predator-like grace he exhibits in everything else.
We dance until I’m too tired to continue.
“I shouldn’t have worked so late last night,” I confess, sheepish as I smother yet another yawn.
“Not a creature of the night?” he asks playfully.
“Yes, just not on three hours of sleep in a twenty-four-hour-plus period. I left that behind in law school,” I reply as we weave through the half-drunk crowd and down a grand staircase.
“I find that hard to believe.” Matvei glances at me, an odd warmth in his eyes. “You can’t tell me you don’t pull all-nighters for cases. I don’t see you as the kind of lawyer who clocks out at five and leaves everything behind.”
“Well, okay, that’s true.” I can’t deny it, and from the way his lips quirk into a small smile, he already knew it too.
“Wait here, and I’ll get Evgeny to pull the car around.”
“Sonya!”
I jerk around at the sound of feet pounding down the staircase, invading the hush of the lobby.
“What do you want, Samson?”
I don’t know how I was ever attracted to him, especially now that I see who he really is behind the good-looking mask.
“Hey—” He stops just before he gets to me to take a long breath. “Look, I know why you’re here.”