Page 44 of Seduction (Wicked Vows)

Relax, Vera. This will work out. Trust me. Your father’s way too into himself to care about us.

And what if that’s exactly what’s bothering me?

I look up in surprise to see her wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

Goddammit.

She’s spent a life being ignored by a man who came in and out of her life, drawing close to a woman her father betrayed and mistreated. Of course she doesn’t want to be in his presence any more than I do.

I’m having dinner with the man responsible for my younger brother Lev getting his ass beat and put in the hospital and almost causing the death of my sister-in-law. He’s an evil son of a bitch.

I put my phone down and reach for her hand.

“At least we have this one consolation. We don’t have to pay for the overpriced stroganina and wine.”

My phone buzzes with a text. I glance at it, and my blood runs cold.

Aleks: His Moscow mistress is in the nearby vicinity. If she makes an appearance, you’re fucked. You’ll have to make a sudden disappearance.

And leave Vera alone with that son of a bitch? Not on your life.

I scowl at the phone, viscerally aware of Vera’s eyes on me. My mind is racing with the possibilities of what I need to do. There’s no fucking way that jerk is so self-focused he’d bring his mistress to meet his daughter, not when he’s still married to her goddamn mother.

My phone vibrates again.

Aria was able to get an aerial view. The mistress is on site but that’s only because he’s staying at the hotel that’s adjacent to the restaurant. She’s in a spa getting some kind of facial peel procedure, which Aria says will take a long enough time you don’t have to worry about her showing.

I blow out a breath, almost as concerned for Vera having to meet the woman than my own identity being leached. Aleksandr’s texts continue.

Word is that he has three of his closest confidantes nearby. They likely won’t join you for dinner, but my concern is that one of them might recognize you. Be careful.

“We’re here,” Vera says. Her hand is cold in mine when I take it. It’s the last time I’ll be able to touch her until this is all over. “Remember, we’re nothing to each other.”

There’s a hollow echo of sadness in her tone.

“Only for a time, Vera.” I see a familiar face out the window. “Let’s go. Your father’s arrived.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Vera

“Well, la-de-da,” I say with a groan.

The moment the car turns down the street leading to the restaurant, the air seems to almost shimmer around us. There are so many luxury cars and uniformed valets lined outside the restaurant, I feel like I’m at an exhibition for the world’s most expensive cars. The entrance is flanked by more uniformed valets who look more suitable as royal courtiers than restaurant staff. The restaurant’s claim to fame is being golden, so there are decorative gold leaves on the ground in front of us, on the lettering on the door, and accented on the uniforms of staff. God. Leave it to my father to pick a restaurant that’s more about social status than genuine connection. Ugh.

I’m dressed in a little black dress, the only elegant dress I brought because every girl needs an LBD and I didn’t know when I’d need something formal. I dressed it up with a pair of gold hoops and gold heels, and I even did my eye makeup for once. After the display of golden opulence here, I sort of wished I’d worn silver jewelry.

Markov looks exceptionally hot in his suit, and it will feel nice walking in beside him, even if we have to pretend we aren’t a couple.

I haven’t told Markov much about my father, but he knows plenty and will see soon enough. My father is a man always looking to make an impression. I’m only his daughter inasmuch as I benefit him, just like my mother. And because I’m loyal to her, he means nothing to me.

Taller than me and polished and refined, if you didn’t know my father, you’d think he was an absolute charmer. His hair and beard are laced with silver, he’s impeccably dressed, and when he smiles, the flash of perfectly straight white teeth nearly blinds me. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, though. They never have.

Markov opens the door for me, nods to my father, then quickly turns to offer me his hand to help me out of the car. It will be the only time he touches me this evening, and I savor the seconds we’re connected before he releases me.

My father doesn’t recognize Markov. I’m guessing they haven’t met yet. But when he sees me exit, he grins broadly, his eyes shining at me. I can’t help it—for one weak moment, I wish it was genuine. I wish he really did want to see me. I wish he cared.

But I quickly push that thought away because I know the truth.

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