Page 11 of Ruthless Reign

My throat goes dry as he brushes past me with a little wink on his way into the washroom.

It takes me a minute to cool off before I feel steady enough to join the other guests.

Like a circling hawk, Anatoly swoops down on me the moment I step into the dining room and offers his arm to escort me to my seat. He loves to play the doting fiancé when others are around.

“Tonight’s a good night to celebrate, don’t you think?”

Something in his tone gives me pause. I rub my temples, willing the painkillers to kick in.

“What do you mean?” I ask cautiously.

“Two powerful families united.”

How much praise does this man require? “Yes, Anatoly, the deal with the Belovs is very exciting.”

He chortles under his breath as he pulls out my chair and murmurs into my ear, “I’m not talking about the shipping deal.”

Prickles of unease coast over my skin. I whip around to ask him what the hell he’s talking about, but before I can get a word in, my father interrupts to consult Anatoly about the choice of wine. Something about our exchange feels off, but maybe I’m reading too much into it.

Wine is poured and gentle chatter floats around the room when Roman finally makes his entrance. Katerina tries to flag him over to where she’s sitting, but he ignores her and takes the free seat beside Sofiya and, to my displeasure, directly across from me. I know we’re supposed to be friends now, but I have no idea what that’s supposed to look like.

“Sofiya, right? We’ve met before, but it’s been a while.” Roman holds out his hand to my sister, who blushes like a schoolgirl—as I suspect most women do when he pays them any attention.

I’m meticulously spreading a napkin in my lap and avoiding Roman’s gaze when Anatoly lowers himself into the seat beside me and throws an arm around the back of my chair. I immediately stiffen.

“So, Sofiya, what kinds of things are you into?” Roman asks as a team of waiters serves the first course.

Sofiya eyes light up. “I’m into the performing arts. I’m actually in the school play this year. We’re performing The Sound of Music.”

“No one cares about a musical performed by a bunch of teenagers,” Anatoly butts in. He tries to catch Roman’s eye as if to say, Aren’t teenage girls idiots?

Roman gives him a hard stare.

“Anyhow, Vasiliev. Have you had a chance to look at the schematics for?—”

“What role are you performing?” Roman asks Sofiya, completely ignoring Anatoly's comment. Satisfaction washes over me at Roman's sharp dismissal.

Sofiya colors, playing with the ends of her hair. “I’m one of the von Trapp kids. Not the biggest role, but I’m still pretty excited.”

Roman tilts his head as if he’s genuinely interested. “Do you get to wear lederhosen?”

She giggles. “Only the boys do. I think I dodged a bullet—they don’t seem to be very comfortable.”

Roman gives my sister a little wink. “I hope I can snag an invite to the performance.”

I know Roman is just being polite, but I appreciate the effort.

Roman’s eyes travel across the table and land on me. “What about you, big sis, are you into performing as well?”

“Nope. Can’t hold a tune to save my life.”

“You can always take singing lessons,” Sofiya suggests. “That's what we do at school, and it made all the difference.”

“Maybe one day?—”

I’m interrupted by Anatoly’s snort of derision. “No wife of mine is getting on stage to sing or dance. That's ridiculous.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind him that I’m not his wife, but when his eyes cut to mine with a warning to drop the issue, I do.

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