Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(102)

“It’s… tight.”

She turns to me with a frown. “And?”

“The, uh… the baby,” I say, covering up my cringe with a cough.

“The baby has plenty of space in there. Don’t worry.”

Then she grabs a sequined clutch and slips on a pair of three inch stilettos. “I’ll see you tomorrow,”

she says with a distant wave.

“Tomorrow?” I say, balking.

She stops at the door. “We might be out late. I’ll probably crash at your mom’s place afterwards.”

“You’re taking a driver. He can bring you home afterwards.”

“I don’t know what they have planned. It might be more fun to turn the party into a sleepover.” She arches her brow. “What does it matter to you? It’s not like you need me to sleep next to you.”

And there it is: the subtle little “fuck you” that reminds me that I can’t afford to complain about any of this. Not without revealing all of my cards. Not without throwing myself headlong down the rabbit

hole.

“Have fun,” I say grudgingly.

She gives me a tight smile. “Thank you.”

“Blyat’,” I swear under my breath the moment she disappears.

I have a dull, dry business meeting to attend while my wife is going to be out at some random bar full of horny guys in that sexy-as-sin dress and fuck-me heels.

I sigh and glare at myself in the mirror. “Getting what I asked for is nothing like it used to be.”





77

PAIGE

The club is insanity. Without Nikita’s assistance, I never would have gotten in on my own.

When Rowan arrives, she confirms it for me. “I was shitting myself waiting for them to find my name on the list,” she says, holding a vodka cranberry cocktail. “I can’t believe I’m in Satan’s Palace.”

“Is that what it’s called?” That explains all of the red and black decor, and the horns and forked tails on the bottle girls and bartenders.

Rowan nods and then wags her brows at me. “You look amazing, by the way.”

“Thanks, Ro. So do you.”

She really went all out tonight. She’s wearing a one-shouldered mini dress with impossibly high heels. I want to give her a medal for showing up without a twisted ankle and a fat lip. I would have killed myself walking in those.

In fact, our entire group is dressed to the nines. Including my mother-in-law, who is in an exquisite gown that makes her look like an Egyptian queen.

Everyone throws back drinks and chats. Cyrille makes sure I have an endless supply of mocktails, and Nikita is a wisecracking ball of fun. I was worried Rowan would feel out of place here, but she fits right in.

I should be having the best time.

But as great as the vibe is, I can’t quite get into the spirit of the night.

When everyone goes to get more drinks, Nikita stays behind at our private table. “You okay, Paige?

You seem a little… distant today.”

I frown. “Is it that noticeable?”

“Only to me. I’m extremely perceptive.”

I smile. “Sorry, I just… Um, I’ve got something on my mind.”

“Something?” she presses. “Or someone?”

I give her a self-conscious shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, if it helps, you look like sin in that dress. Coming from me, there is no higher compliment.”

“Thanks. That must be why wearing it feels like a punishment.” I strain against the underwire that’s cutting into my rib cage. “It hurts like hell. But I couldn’t change after seeing Misha’s face when he saw me in it.”

Nikita throws her head back and laughs. “Torturing my brother. I love it. I didn’t think you had it in you, Paige.”

“I don’t really feel like I’m having the last laugh, to be honest. Will you give me a second? I’m going to head to the restroom and adjust a little.”

She waves me away, and I get to my feet and head to the ladies’ room. Immediately, I feel two shadows descend, hot on my trail.

I turn to both of my large, muscular bodyguards. “Callan, Boris, I am going to the restroom. It’s right over there. You can see it from here. Stay put. The both of you.”

Callan starts to object. “But—”

I poke him in the chest with my finger. “Stay.”

Callan and Boris exchange a glance. But in the end, they listen.

I make straight for the ladies room and spend a painful minute trying to make the damn dress a little more comfortable.

My pendant has fallen between my breasts and out of sight. I pull it out and take a deep breath.

“Wish you were here, Clara,” I whisper to the empty bathroom. I’m calling on her more and more these days. I wish like hell that she’d call back.

But I know she won’t. I’ll never hear her voice again.

Sighing, I slip back out again. I haven’t even managed to get three feet from the restroom before I’m accosted by a tall man in a dark gray suit.

He’s a little older—late thirties, if I had to guess—but he has a boyish charm. Five o’clock shadow, carelessly styled long hair, the gleam of a probably very expensive watch on his wrist. “Evening, gorgeous.”