Page 14 of Arranged Marriage By the Bratva

Yegor slowly catches on. “I think so.”

“I’m going to mark my territory, if you can catch my drift.”

Yegor chuckles, finally understanding. “She is your wife, and she is part of the Bratva now. Marking is self-explanatory.”

“Right, and the reason I appointed you, is because I don’t trust her. I need you to stay by her side and keep an eye on her. And you report back to me if anything suspicious is going on. Understood?” I explain sternly.

“Consider it done. I look forward to the assignment.”

“Good. Now get out. I’ve got work to do.”

Chapter Eleven

Elena

Days later, I sit riding in the back of the town car past Times Square heading to the Fresh Start Gala Fundraising Event in collaboration with the Manhattan Hospital to raise funds and awareness for the underprivileged and homeless of the city. I try to keep my hands still in my lap as it’s such a major event. Well, to me it is anyway, and it’s my first. The city’s officials, judges, celebrities, entrepreneurs and influential business owners have kindly agreed to attend and give me their time on such short notice. Even I’m surprised at the caliber of the guest list as I study it. Nikk’s list of contacts, blowing out a low breath as I flip my long hair over my shoulder.

I hope I look the part. I’ve organized this event, and if it tanks, I’m screwed. Taking out my makeup mirror, I reapply my bronzed lipstick, which perfectly complements the slinky copper dress I’m wearing where part of my back is out. I notice the driver—Stan, sneaking a glance at me in the back seat as I do so. Typical, but given my understanding of Nikk’s willingness to kill anyone who touches me, I’m okay that he’s looking. I do look good. Twisting my gold bracelets around on my wrist, I practice my best gala smile, hoping I’m a good enough actress to pull off acting as if I’m happy to be Nikk Orlov’s wife as we pass the bright lights of Times Square to The Beekman.

The venue is stunning and makes me homesick for Sicily. When I scouted out the venue, I immediately knew it was the best place to hold an event and make a lasting first impression. Its nineteenth century design took my breath away, and its opulent interior is just the place. Feeling hopeful and courageous about the Mancinis’ entry back into New York, I walk in with the perpetual stain of Yegor at my side, but if it’s going to placate Nikk to have him tagging along, then I hope he learns a thing or two.

Immediately I’m greeted by a lovely group of women. “Hi, I’m Sharon. It’s nice to finally meet you! You look fantastic, and this is such a wonderful idea to run an event like this. Very impressive,” she praises with a friendly smile. There’s no fakeness behind it; in fact, there’s no one from the list who’s fake. Everyone I’m meeting and greeting is treating me like royalty. Almost if they’re willing to kiss the ground I’m walking on.

I’m just thankful Yegor is staying a healthy distance back from me, slinking into the shadows until I can’t feel him hawking over my shoulder. I circulate the room, enjoying the meet-and-greets, until it’s time for me to speak.

“Hi, for those of you who don’t know me, I’m Elena Orlov, a newlywed, and passionate about helping to support worthy causes, so I’m delighted to be welcomed into the Fresh Start family,” I start, feeling a little rusty on my speeches, but I find my footing as the speech carries on.

As the champagne begins to flow, the conversations open up, and I find relief in the fact that I’m meeting the right business partners already.

“Velvet Lounge sounds like an excellent concept nightclub, and I’m keen to invest. I want to hear more about the details. Nikk is an associate of mine, and we’ve been doing business for years,” Petrov advises rather enthusiastically, much to my surprise. “Let’s set up a meeting so we can talk about when you want to launch. I’ve got a few other partners who probably would be interested in the vodka production side of things as well.”

I regard him with a healthy dose of suspicion, finding myself unaware that the Orlov name held such weight in the community. I meet others who are willing to back the Mancini ventures as well, and it’s as if I’m stepping into a surreal dream. Not a single one of them has turned down my suggestions for nightclub venues. No, in fact, all of them have been in support, practically throwing their business cards at me.

I smell a rat but keep my veiled thoughts to myself. Even Nikk has been acting as sweet as artificial sugar. It’s a game, Elena. Never forget it’s a game, but don’t hate it, because you’re playing one too. Except in the game I’m playing, I’m the only winner, and Nikk is the casualty.

By the time the event’s in full swing, we raise a small fortune for Martin Place, a youth initiative for the underprivileged of New York. I take the microphone to express my gratitude.

“Thank you so much for opening your pockets today, and it’s because of you all, we’ve been able to raise over sixty thousand dollars for the Fresh Start fund. This will help with our worker bee project in New Jersey to build new homes. Thank you so much!”

I kept the speech short but sweet. Sharon approaches clapping her hands together with pursed lips. “I like a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it. What an amazing start to your charity debut. It’s only going to get better from here. That worker bee program has gained some real traction, and they’ve already built thirty new homes in that region.”

Smiling, and encouraged by all the compliments, I’m happy to have met Sharon, she will be an excellent ally and friend to keep in contact with. “Thank you. I’m amazed how quickly everything came together, to be honest. It’s been a dream event.”

“Well, you’re an Orlov now, dear. It’s to be expected.”

Hmm. People keep saying that. Looks like this sham of a marriage wasn’t the worst decision I could have made after all. A waitress floats past, and I help myself to an hors d’oeuvre. A prickly heat travels up the nape of my neck as a warm hand lands on my waist. Flinching, my eyes widen when I see who’s behind the hand.

His dark eyes meet mine with a public warning, housed in them, and for a second a sense of entrapment cloaks me as his textured mouth graces the side of the cheek. God, why does it feel so good for him to do that? And why does he look like a male model from a magazine?

“Hi, sorry I couldn’t get here earlier. From what I’ve heard upon entry, you’ve done an excellent job. Well done, wife,” he remarks smoothly with a wide smile, and a clear taunt in front of others.

Oh, you wish to play? Then two can play the game. Basking in his praise, I chuckle as he hands me a congratulatory champagne. “Thank you, husband. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Nikk hams it up for the attentive semicircle of associates in front of us. “Yet you did. I have every faith in you, Elena.”

“Ahh, you two remind me of me and my husband. Even twelve years later, I’m still in love with the guy,” one of the wives of a New York official remarks.

If only you knew, lady. This has nothing to do with love. At fucking all.

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