Page 127 of Sweet Animosity

He lowered his head and rubbed his eyes. “Catherine Palace. Subtle.”

I turned my back to him and gestured for him to zip up my dress. “By the way, Serg swung by the office after you left for that meeting.”

I’d picked up again as a sort of office manager at the Four Monks these past weeks and found that the work suited me. I loved talking schedules and staff with Polina and operations with Mac. I also found working directly with Var on the financial and membership side very interesting as well.

Especially when we had a disagreement.

Let’s just say it was the first time in my life I didn’t mind losing an argument.

I finished his bowtie and gave it a pat. “He talked to the Russian oligarch who owns the knock-off Mona Lisa, but the man didn’t know who it was he hired to recover my forged copies. He hired him through a shell company proxy.”

Var’s jaw tightened. “Fuck. Okay, I’ll talk to him before the party.”

I knew it really bothered him that they couldn’t run to ground the Russian who’d threatened me. All the other mafia syndicates had been ordered to stand down now that I was under his protection as his wife. The Russian was the final loose end. And of course, there was the extra burn that the man they were chasing was Russian.

I’d lost track of how many times the boys had sat on the edge of my desk and asked, “Are you absolutely certain he was Russian?”

It was also in my best interest that they find out who the man was, and not only for my own safety, but my sanity. Whenever they had the slightest hint that they were getting close to identifying the man, I was ordered under house arrest.

And though the Four Monks was like living inside a tiny, sustained city with its events, restaurant, hotel, spa, and the willingness of all the best stores on Michigan Avenue to deliver countless outfit selections, I still enjoyed leaving the building occasionally.

I surveyed my dress in the mirror, then shook my head. “No. This one isn’t right either. I need to change.”

Var caught me around the waist. “Krasivaya, you look perfect. There is no reason to be nervous.”

My back stiffened. “Who says I’m nervous?”

He reached down, grabbed my hand, and led me out of the bathroom into our bedroom. Strewn across the bed, the lounge chairs in front of the fireplace, and the bureau were the earlier outfits I’d tried on.

“Yeah, but?—”

He raised a finger. “I’m not finished.”

He then pulled me into our shared closet, where there were more outfits across the valet island and on the floor.

I pushed out my lower lip in a pout. “I told you we should convert that third bedroom into a walk-in closet for me.”

He placed a finger under my chin and lifted my face to his. “And I told you, I don’t want to miss a moment of watching you get ready.”

I sighed. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little nervous, but to hear the boys talk about them, it’s like I’m being dragged before the Volturi.”

One of the perks of working in the office with Var was getting to know his business partners. Unlike his staff who surrounded my desk like hungry wolves on my first day, his partners were different.

There was something so nice about being surrounded by men who truly loved their wives.

They each treated me like a little sister, and having been an only child, it was so much fun to feel like I was part of a big family with a bunch of endearing older brothers. And despite them all being tall, tattooed, scary as fuck, gun-carrying mobsters, I liked calling them the boys.

“The Vol-what?”

“The vampire council from Twilight. Really, Var, you need to start learning your American history.”

He kissed my forehead, knowing better than to mess up my lipstick… at least not before a party. “I’ll get right on that, and really, they’re not that bad.”

He offered his arm.

We weren’t going far. Just downstairs into the main ballroom. The gambling tables had been removed to make room for dining tables and a massive dance floor.

The girlfriend and wives had insisted on throwing us a belated wedding feast.

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