Page 60 of Twisted Cage

NIKOLETTA

The last party I attended was Christmas of senior year. Seventeen, and home from abroad for two weeks, I was desperate to be taken seriously. I’d tried everything I could think of but was dismissed at every turn. So that night, I wore my hair in a high ponytail. Sleek and severe, I chose the style so I’d look more grown-up.

A girl then, I naively thought I could achieve something so crucial with the most basic decision about my appearance.

I certainly caught attention. In doing so, I hovered on the fringes of important conversations with powerful people and studied.

In a matter of hours, I learned being noticed and taken seriously were two very different goals. Being seen was trivial, and fleeting at that. If I wanted to be taken seriously, it required far more than what I presented on the outside. It took more than being noticed. What I chose to say with my mouth, my eyes, and my demeanor, played crucial roles in the outcome.

It was knowing when to say nothing at all and listen instead.

Something I’d been getting good at before Konstantin impaled me with that unforgettable fucking dick of his. Now that we’d crossed all the lines, he is the ultimate distraction I can’t afford.

Deep breath.

I need to channel that energy and hold on to it with everything I have. Collect all those lessons I learned and implement them flawlessly, the impression I leave behind tonight nothing short of unforgettable.

He’ll be watching me for hours, scrutinizing every expression, my body language, and how everyone reacts to me. My job? To let him without giving him a reaction. I have too much at stake to do anything else.

The last thing I need to do is show any sort of divide within our own. Fuck if I will give Vlad or my father even a spec of help figuring out how to hit us the hardest and cause the most damage, or anyone else for that matter. Because Nikolaj will have other enemies there tonight. While their loyalty to the Ophidian Order may keep them in check, as well as their fear of his power being both Bratva and society member, they’ll be looking for any sign of weakness. Details they can hold on to until an opportunity arises to strike.

Nikolaj is right. Marriage is the way. It’s not what I want, but having control over who I marry is far more than I would have gotten otherwise.

Taking in my reflection in the full-length mirror, I smooth my palm over the crown of my hair. The stylist worked wonders. After washing, deep conditioning, shaping, trimming, and drying, he gathered the mass loosely at my nape and wove the strands into a loose flower French braid, guaranteeing my back remained fully exposed.

Feminine and soft, when I am anything but.

I glance at my mother’s solitaire pearl diamond necklace I used to wear and bite the inside of my cheek to chase away the tears. At one time, I thought death put the ultimate distance between us, but this twisted love triangle that defied logic proved me wrong. Exposed truths sucked the soul straight out of my childhood memories and shattered my dreams moving forward.

So I’ll have to forge a new path, find new dreams.

With the lotion I’ve slathered on my skin finally soaked in, I slide my revenge gown off the hanger and step into the opening. The fabric glides snugly along every curve on its way up my thighs and over my hips. Ahmed nailed the alterations beautifully. The bodice plunges into a deep V held in place by nothing more than a delicate clasp on the thin straps behind my neck.

Amazing how such a simple piece holds everything together.

I smooth my hands over the soft, shimmering fabric on my way to secure the short zipper hidden in the ruched fabric cascading over my ass.

An evil little smile curves my bloodred lips as I turn left, then right, watching the thigh-high slit I’d had Ahmed add expose not just my thigh, but a generous glimpse of my hip.

Tonight is going to be brutal for my godfather, and after everything, it is just a taste of what he deserves.

A deep knock draws my gaze to the door. It has to be Dimitri or Grigori because Konstantin, the cocky bastard he can be, would have just walked in. Plus, he disappeared into his lair as soon as the information he demanded from my brother arrived and I haven’t seen him since.

I fix a smile on my face, after all, it isn’t their fault their boss is a shithead, and open the door. My eyes collide with Konstantin’s broad chest where the tie of his tux hangs loose.

Shoulder propped against the doorframe, he holds a gold Christian Louboutin box on his upturned palm.

Leaning my hip against the door, I tilt my head. “Career change at your age? I’m not sure delivery boy was a wise move.”

His jaw clenches.

Direct. Fucking. Hit.

The minute I reach for the box, he tugs it back and holds it over his shoulder and out of my reach. Unless I want to climb him. Which, to be fair, I do. Or at least, my lusty vagina does.

I itch to trail my fingers over the grooves deepening between his eyebrows with his growing anger. He glances down the hall, shakes his head, and steps right up to me, front to front, forcing me to back up.

Kicking the door shut behind him, he flips the lock and wraps his hand around my throat, sending a goddamn shock straight up my spine. His fingers flex along the sides of my neck as if he fights the urge to choke me. The increased pressure ignites goosebumps over my scalp and a flood of shivers from head to toe.

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