Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(107)

“Nothing is off,” she says quickly. “I’m just a little tired. This dress is heavy.”

She’s lying. There is something going on in that beautiful head of hers. Before I can force it out of her, Nikita and my mother find us.

Nikita lays a gentle hand on Paige’s arm and pulls her into a hug. It’s a sentimental, caring gesture.

One that I didn’t think Nikita was capable of performing, let alone with Paige.

I step back and leave them to it.

My bride spends the rest of the evening avoiding me, which turns out to be surprisingly easy to do at a wedding. She is greeting guests and shaking hands, laughing pleasantly at the jokes of all my men and allies. This party is her introduction to my world, and she is the center of it.

I watch her light up when Ilya runs to her. She fluffs her dress out and kneels down in the grass so she can pull him into a proper hug.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” my mother asks, appearing at my side out of nowhere.

“Yes,” I can’t help but agree.

“It’s a big responsibility to take a wife, Misha.”

“I know what my responsibilities are, Mother.”

She arches her brow. “Do you really, though?”

She walks away without clarifying what she means, but I understand well enough. She doubts me.

It’s no wonder. I’m not my brother.

Feeling restless, I walk around the garden until I find my sister indulging in what seems to be her fifth or tenth glass of champagne.

She’s flirting with one of my bodyguards under the shade of the weeping willow that flanks the house.

The moment I approach, he sulks off without so much as a backwards glance, leaving Nikita looking less than pleased.

She rolls her eyes. “You and Maksim always had the worst timing.”

“What were you gonna do?” I ask. “Pull him around back and have your way with him?”

“I was going to use one of the bedrooms. You have so many of them.”

I wrinkle my nose in distaste. “He works for me, Niki.”

“Everyone works for you,” she complains.

“He’s not good enough for you.”

“Then tell me which guy is.” When I stay silent, she snorts. “Exactly. Do you think it’s easy for me to meet men? You think being the daughter and then the sister of a don is easy? Have you ever stopped to consider the fact that I might be lonely? And to clarify, unlike you, I don’t enjoy it.”

I frown. “I’m not lonely.”

She snorts again.

“You’re very articulate on champagne,” I observe.

“And you’re an idiot when you’re sober,” she snaps, prodding her finger into my chest. “You have it all and you can’t see it. Or maybe you just can’t accept it. Do you know what I would give to have what you have?”

I frown. “What do I have?”

She throws up her hands. “It boggles my mind that you and Maksim got to be dons just because you’re men. You’re both dumb as rocks. I should have been the one in charge.”

“I think you need to find a bedroom and sleep for a bit,” I say, trying to pry the champagne flute from her hand.

She holds it out of my reach and gestures towards Paige, who’s busy playing some sort of game with Ilya and a few of the other children.

“She’ll make a good mother,” she observes. “She’s a natural at it. I just hope you don’t make her hate you the way Mom ended up hating Otets.”

I hear Paige’s voice. I will not let you turn me into your mother.

“I will make sure she has everything,” I grit out. “She will be comfortable.”

Nikita sighs and drains her champagne flute, then drops it harmlessly onto the grass at our feet.

“That’s the lesson you need to learn, big brother: comfortable and happy are two very different things.”





81

MISHA

Paige looks a little stunned when I break the news to her as the last of the partygoers departs. “We’re going to Prague?”

I nod. “I had Rada pack your bags before the ceremony. We’ll be gone for a week.”

“A week?”

“Is there a reason you’re repeating everything I say?”

“Well… I just didn’t think we would be doing the whole honeymoon thing,” she stammers. “I mean, what purpose does it serve?”

It’s a legitimate question, considering the boundaries I’ve placed around our marriage. But I can’t exactly tell her the truth.

Because the truth is that this wasn’t planned; this is a last minute, knee-jerk reaction. You couldn’t look at me through our entire wedding. Try avoiding it now.

“We must maintain appearances,” I tell her. “Our movements will be followed. Everyone will want to know where we went on our honeymoon.”

“So this is just to make sure people don’t suspect anything is wrong?” She shrugs. “Then we’ll just lie. We’ll hunker down here and then tell people we took a trip.”

“That is a lie that would be easy to unravel. And if I’m caught lying about something as simple as a honeymoon with my new wife, then the rest of the lie falls apart.”