Page 103 of Cashmere Cruelty

I sit at the head of the table, letting myself be swept up in greetings and kiss-assery of every kind. This may be Ipatiy’s venture, but I’m the one who gave the green light;I’mthe one who invested. Therefore, his success is mine.

So would be his failure.

But it doesn’t seem like I’ll have to be concerned about that. Below, pills were swapping hands like coins, and up here, where the atmosphere is clearly intended to come across as classier, I can still spy little round pick-me-ups wrapped in napkins or sliding between tongues.

Oh, well. Ipatiy can iron out the kinks. As long as the bottom line’s promising, I won’t look too closely.

“And we’re all here!”

Speak of the devil.

Ipatiy walks back to our table with Ivan. He’s got an arm lazily draped over Ivan’s shoulder, which everyone can tell isn’t going over well except for the man himself. My oldestvorlooks just about ready to crawl out of his skin, pulsing vein and all. Ipatiy tightens his hold in a show of friendship, and I could swear Ivan’s eye starts twitching.

“Ivan,” I say, “nice of you to join us. Come sit.”

Ipatiy’s grabby hand finally falls away. I spy a flash of relief on Ivan’s face—the slump of aborted carnage. With a stiff nod, he takes his place across from me.

For a while, the night is bearable. I have to give it to Ipatiy: the man knows how to show hospitality. Refined appetizers maketheir way onto our table, from caviar tarts to crabtapas, with a fine selection of cheeses and rare honey dips. I take small sips out of my champagne, wanting to keep sharp, but I can tell from the heat rising to my men’s cheeks that the drink list measures up to the food. I pop a cube of brie with orange blossom honey and pistachios into my mouth, and all I can think about is April back home: her ravenous hunger for fine things she never got to try, her quiet little moans of pleasure when a morsel melted into her mouth.

God, I wish I was here with her.

The thought snaps me out of my reverie. Why would I want that? April’s no one. Nobody. She’s the mother of my child—but to me, she’s nothing.

A co-parent, sure. A person to protect for the sake of my kid.

But she’s not adate.

Events like these, they have rules. Codes, and very strict ones at that. Apakhanwalking into a business christening with a woman on his arm…

He wouldn’t do that unless that woman was important. Unless she washis.

Aprilcouldbe yours, the most feral, possessive part of me snarls.She’d be yours if you claimed her.

But I can’t claim her like that.

Then, suddenly, I feel a kick under the table. “Matvey,” Yuri hisses, bringing me back to the present.

I realize thevoryare looking at me. Someone must’ve been trying to get my attention.

“This is Ipatiy’s night, Gora,” says Grisha pleasantly. “Certainly, the D.C. acquisition can wait.”

So that’s what they were asking after.“Grisha’s right,” I say. “We can talk business in the morning. Tonight, we’re celebrating.”

Of course, I would rather talk business if I’m to be here. Truthfully, I’d rather not be here at all. But if that’s not an option, then I’d gladly make this time count.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t listening to a single word that was spoken, so that rules it out.

“That may be true, boss,” Stanislav intercepts. “But surely…”

“Surely you can drop the mystery now,” another voice cuts in. “Sir.”

I look up. Ivan returns my gaze with something unusual in it. Something close to fire.

Has he ever spoken to me like that?

Ivan’s lip twitches. Passing his outburst off as a joke, he continues, “It’s good to be kept on your toes, but we didn’t join the Russian ballet. There’s no secrets among brothers. Right?”

A few voices chime in to agree.

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