Satin Princess(113)

“Anton is not like most men,” I whisper.

Some of her confidence slips away. “Don’t act like you know him.”

“But I do know him,” I say, only now realizing how true it is.

Maybe we haven’t known each other long, but connections are formed on other things than time. We are drawn together by something greater than both of us. I know him, and he knows me.

And no matter what happens now, Marina can’t take that away.

The edge of the bedside table cuts into the back of my leg, and I remember with a jolt that the dagger Anton bought for me is sitting in the drawer. If I move fast enough, I may be able to arm myself.

Of course she’s still holding a gun. But at least I’m not as powerless as she thinks I am. I remember some of Anton’s last words to me before he left.

You’re strong enough to protect yourself.

It’s like he knew I’d need the encouragement in the moment that mattered most.

“So if you can’t have him, no one can, is that it?” I ask.

She smiles, a cruel slash of a smirk. “That’s about the gist of it. You wouldn’t have been able to make him happy, anyway. I was the perfect woman for him. He was just too proud to see that.”

“He’s been doing fine without you.”

Goading her is probably not the best idea, but my emotions are getting the better of me. Also, a part of me feels like keeping her talking is the best possible option right now.

Because even if I manage to get the dagger in my hand, I’m still not sure I’ll have the guts to use it.

She shakes her head. “You distracted him and now, he’s going to pay for that mistake.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask bluntly.

“I’m going to take his Bratva,” she says. “I’m going to run the Ivanov and Stepanov Bratvas simultaneously, and I’m going to do a better job than he ever did.”

“You really think his men will follow you?”

“I know they will.”

“Why?”

She gives me a secretive smile and turns towards the window. Her stance is casual now. She still has the gun in her hand, but she seems to have forgotten about it.

While her gaze is turned to the window, I slowly try and get the drawer open. I’m on pins and needles the entire time, praying the drawer doesn’t creak and give me away.

“You know, I wanted my father to be alive to see this,” she says contemplatively. “I wanted to sit him down and force him to look at what I could do.”

She sinks down on the window seat and pulls her legs up. For a moment, it feels like we’re just two friends hanging out and talking. That is, if you ignore the gun in her hand and the dagger I’m trying to retrieve.

While her gaze is averted, I grab the blade and manage to shove it into the back of my tights. It rests there, cold and sharp.

“Come over here, Jessa,” Marina says. “Let’s have a little chat. Woman to woman.”

Walking is uncomfortable with the blade tucked away, but it’s more of a mental block than anything else. I’m half-terrified the knife is going to fall out and cut me open. Thankfully, my leggings are binding enough that they hold the dagger in place.

All the same, I move slowly. I have to walk past my phone to get to the window seat, but there’s no way I can bend now with the dagger lodged where it is. Not that Marina would let me, anyway.

“Take a seat,” she commands when I reach her.

“I’ll stand.”

“Suit yourself. No beanbags here for you to sit on, right?” She cackles at her own joke, a callback to the night we met in her apartment. It occurs to me now that she probably wasn’t even drunk. Just faking to buy my confidence. Not that it matters, but still—there were signs.

I glance out the window and notice a handful of Anton’s men manning the south entrance into the estate. Everything looks calm and serene.

Clearly, Yulian isn’t aware that Marina is in here with me.

“You remember, before you knew my real name, we were friends, weren’t we, Jessa?”

“We were never real friends,” I say bitterly. “Freya was never real.”

She shakes her head like that disappoints her. “I did like you, Jessa. I’d still like you… if it weren’t for the fact that you fucked my husband.”

“He’s not your husband.”

“The only way he’ll stop being my husband is if I die or he does.”

“Anton’s a lot stronger than you are.”

She sighs like she’s bored. “Yes, people have been telling me that for most of my life. My father told me the same thing. It’s why I wanted to prove to him that I could do what he didn’t think was possible. That I could run both Bratvas. I could be the don of all dons. Isn’t that a great story?” she asks, turning her blue eyes on me. “A woman succeeding in a man’s world. It’s all about breaking glass ceilings, Jessa.”

“You’re trying to spin this as some sort of feminist triumph?” I ask. “You really are delusional.”

She shrugs. “I’ve proved countless men wrong over the years. Why not one more?”

I’m tired of listening to her psychotic aspirations. “Why did you take Chris?”