Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(30)

She frowns. I notice she has a tiny little scar across her right eyebrow. It’s shaped like a dagger with a broken hilt.

“Aren’t those the same thing?” she asks tentatively.

I shake my head. “Not in my world.”

The heat of our bodies merges and grows. We’re an inferno of chemistry and emotion and bad decisions. If we stay like this, I’m pretty sure I’m going to do something stupid. Something really fucking stupid—like kiss my future wife for no other reason than because I want to.

So I step back.

The distance is a bucket of ice water over us. Paige blinks in alarm and I see she’s clutching the pendant hanging between her breasts.

Her eyes leave my face and teeter down to my chest in retaliation. That’s when I realize that I’ve got

my hand on my dog tags, too.

She’s already asked me about them once. I don’t intend to give her the chance again.

“Leave,” I growl. “Now.”

To my surprise, she goes, taking her box of bullshit with her.





21

PAIGE

I’m spared the indignity of storming in to see Misha again when I run into him at the bottom of the floating staircase.

It took a good hour before my heartrate returned to normal after our conversation this morning. One glimpse of him now and it’s hammering away once more.

“Back on the warpath already, Paige?” he asks flippantly.

“Where is my stuff?” I ask through gritted teeth. “I went to the bathroom. When I came back, my stuff was gone.”

“You mean that cardboard box of junk? I’m sure a maid disposed of it. Hopefully, in the fireplace.”

I have to bite back the urge to grab my pendant. He’s noticed the habit too many times for me to be comfortable resorting to it now. But my fingers tingle and itch uncomfortably.

“What was the point of having my things brought here if you were just going to throw them out?”

I should have known this palace was too good to be true. The only upside of being married to Misha would be living like royalty, so it would be just like him to snatch that away, too, just to prove I’m powerless here. He probably has me set up in a roach-infested shed out back.

“Come. I want to introduce you to my staff,” he says instead of answering me. “Soon enough, they’ll be your staff, too. I think introductions are necessary.”

My staff? It’s weird when someone puts two words together that you never thought of combining before. It feels like he’s speaking an alien language.

When Misha brought me to his house yesterday, I noticed a few maids moving around. The fact that they will work for me is too bizarre to comprehend. Me, the girl who grew up in one of the smallest trailers in Corden Park, is going to have a household staff.

I look down at myself and wince. Me, the girl who is wearing ratty sweats and her ex’s oversized t-shirt, is going to have a household staff.

“Um… can you give me a second?” I ask.

He frowns. “To do what?”

“To… freshen up. I need—”

“A new wardrobe and some fashion sense,” he finishes. “I’m well aware.”

I glare at him. “You have a problem with how I dress?”

“Amongst other things,” he says coolly. “You will be my wife soon. Looking the part is important.

Living the part is even more so.”

“If you wanted a model for a wife, maybe you should have ordered one out of a catalog,” I snap.

“What does that even mean, anyway? ‘Living the part’?”

“You’re in my world now, Paige. Either you figure it out, or you die in the process.”

He places his hand on my lower back and steers me towards the mezzanine. By the time I make up my mind to fight him off, it’s too late. I’m facing a line of people who are all looking at me curiously.

I thought he had two maids, maybe three. But I’m finding myself slack-jawed and stupid in front of a small army of housekeepers, butlers, gardeners, and chefs, all lined up at crisp, military attention.

Uniforms flawless, expressions rapt.

Misha pushes me in front of them and steps away. The sudden disappearance of his pressure at my back makes me stumble before I can compose myself.

“Paige,” Misha says, gesturing to a short, stocky man standing at the center of the gawking crowd,

“this is Noel. He is the head housekeeper, responsible for the rest of the staff and the smooth running of the household. You want anything at all, he’s the man to see.”

Noel steps forward and offers me his hand. I shake it with a nervous smile, taking note of his brilliant blue eyes. They make him seem so much younger than the smattering of gray in his hair implies.

“I hope you will be comfortable here with us, madam,” he says formally. But his smile is warm and familiar. I make note of him as a potential ally. God knows I’ll need those.

“I’m sure I will be,” I say, feeling completely out of my depth. “But please, call me Paige. I’m not one for formalities.”

Misha moves next to me, his hand grazing once again over my lower back. “You are the lady of the house. They will all give you the respect you deserve.”

I throw Misha a dirty glare, but he completely misses it. He’s already nodding to the next person in line.