Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(41)

“Paige,” I correct weakly from my fetal position on the bed. I slept like a baby last night in the real sense of the phrase—a.k.a., up every two hours to cry and feel sorry for myself—and now, I’m exhausted.

“Paige. Paige. Paige,” she choruses to herself under her breath.

Nothing says “close personal friend” like practicing how to say your first name.

If this is going to be an issue, maybe I should just let her call me whatever she wants. Sighing, I force myself up into a sitting position and offer a meek smile in Rada’s direction. “But yes, I’m okay. Just…

a little out of it today.”

“I thought you’d be over the moon.”

I frown. “About what?”

Rada immediately looks nervous. “I wasn’t snooping or anything. I was just cleaning inside your closet.”

“Okay… and?”

“Your new clothes,” she says. “The shopping spree you went on with Don Orlov.”

I’m out of bed and charging across the room before I can fully process what I’m doing. I rush into my empty walk-in closet.

Only, it’s not so empty anymore. Now, both sides of the closet are absolutely filled to the brim with clothes. The racks are bursting and I’m legitimately concerned for the structural integrity of the place.

“Oh my God…”

I meander through the closet, noticing all the pieces that I secretly admired yesterday at the store.

There’s an army green jumpsuit and the champagne evening gown I said was beautiful.

I finger the dress, taking note of the intricate beading. I’ll look like a life-sized Golden Globe statue in this thing.

“It’s so beautiful,” Rada observes from just behind me. “That’s my favorite piece.”

So much for “not snooping.” Not that I mind.

“Thanks for your help today, Rada. But I think I need to lie down again. I’m feeling a little queasy.”

“Of course. If you need me, just ring the bell. I placed it on your bedside table.”

“Oh God…”

“Pardon?” she asks.

I wave her away with a polite smile. “Nothing. Never mind.”

I don’t bother to tell her that the thought of ringing a bell for a human being, like she’s one of Pavlov’s dogs, makes me feel extra nauseous.

The moment Rada is gone, I collapse back onto the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Helplessness runs through my veins.

I can’t do anything about anything—but I’m starting to make my peace with that. What’s worse is that my emotions are a mess. I have no idea how to decipher what I’m feeling. Restlessness? Regret?

Hurt?

I’ve replayed the dinner too many times now to pretend like my mood isn’t directly related to what happened between Misha and me last night. For a second, I thought we might actually get vulnerable with one another. Get real with each other. For a second, I thought this relationship could be something more than it is.

Misha shut down that possibility swiftly.

Looks like I’ll be alone in this relationship.

Well… not entirely alone.

My hand flutters over my stomach for perhaps the first time since Misha’s doctor told me I was pregnant. “Are you in there?” I ask softly. “Can you hear me?”

With my right hand on my belly, I raise the left one to my pendant. “I hope so. Because you’re the miracle I’ve been waiting for. Please don’t abandon me now.”

When the door clicks open, I feel his presence before I see him. I jerk upright, fighting the dizziness.

“Paige,” Misha says in a flat greeting. His eyes are dark and his expression is solemn.

I turn away so I don’t have to look at him. “I would thank you for the clothes, but I’m pretty sure they had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the image you want for your future wife.”

“Both things can be true.”

I roll my eyes and sit back down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not gonna wear half the things in there. It was a waste of money.”

“I had Noel check every piece of clothing that was purchased for you. They’re all sustainable, recyclable brands from companies with a history of giving back to the environment.”

That gets my attention. I twist around to face him. “Really?”

“I’ll have him show you proof if it eases your mind.”

I stare at him for a long, tense moment. “Is this meant to be, like, a peace offering?”

“I wasn’t aware we were at war.”

“You were an ass last night at dinner,” I say before I lose my nerve.

He shrugs. “I’m not going to justify my behavior to you. Ever. So draw whatever conclusions you want, Paige. It’s of no concern to me.”

I sigh. “Are you here for another reason besides to lecture to me condescendingly?”

“To tell you to get dressed,” he says. “We’re getting married.”

The dizziness comes back in full force. It takes all of my strength not to fall back on the bed. “What?

We’re getting married? Right now?”

“No.” Relief pumps through me for one cruel second before he continues. “We’re getting married in an hour.”