Page 155 of Deceitful Vows

I’d love it if it didn’t announce things are well and truly over for Andrik and me. Maksim’s inclusion in Nikita’s life came with hundreds of men who seeanywoman with a pulse as fair game—excluding Nikita.They’re horny not stupid—yet Andrik’s lack of contact makes it seem as if I haven’t been propositioned a hundred times in the last week alone.

I haven’t used my dirtbox since the flight to the Trudny Peninsula District, meaning every “Hey, baby, wanna fuck?” and its hundreds of synonyms have been recorded by the state-of-the-art surveillance system Maksim has watching Nikita’s every move.

The evidence is there for a war of jealousy. It is the judge, juror, and executioner who are missing.

I’m drawn from my thoughts when Maksim pulls out a chair for me. It is directly next to Nikita and facing the main entrance doors. The kitchen and bar are behind us. He doesn’t care what the table plan says. His security team would have plotted the most viable exit before he arrived, and he will implement their strategies to the wire since it will guarantee Nikita’s safety.

He won’t tell me who is threatening her, just that the threat is viable enough for him to act on it.

“Thank you,” I murmur to the waitress when she fills my glass with wine.

The red goblet of goodness offers the perfect distraction to the swishing of my stomach.

Each glass of wine I enjoy over the next hour soothes my stomach’s swirls and replenishes the confidence I lost when my mother dug her French-tipped nails into my arm.

The reason for the wine selection makes sense when Aleena finally arrives to greet her guests. Its glossy appearance matches the fiery coloring of the ensemble that makes her appear far more mature than the twenty-two years she has graced this Earth. Her dress is seductive and alluring—a look she can totally pull off. She is gorgeous and naughty at the same time, the perfect combination of sexy and cute.

It is a custom for the bride to show up late to the festivities of her wedding, but Aleena’s numerous apologies about her fiancé’s tardiness as she does the rounds reveal they’ve mixed things up this time.

“He won’t be too much longer. He had some family business to take care of.”

Her dress swishes against her slim thighs as she moves from guest to guest.

“Oh… I’m as eager as you for him to show up, Mrs. Florence. I promise the delay will be worth it when you see how dashing he looks in his tuxedo.”

She laughs off one guest’s comment on her glowing state. “I’ll have you know my dress is white.” She leans in close before whispering, “Off-white is still white, right?”

I’m dying for her to reach our table, but our mother delays that for as long as possible. She pulls Aleena from one side of the room to the next that by the time she makes it to our table, the groom-to-be has finally showed up.

He is greeted by his guests with as much, if not more, euphoria as Aleena’s arrival instigated, and he’s hidden from view for almost just as long. More than his suit is crumpled when Aleena gestures for him to join her.

As he heads our way, he adjusts his wonky tie. He has the swagger that captures the attention of the room, and a suit that showcases every spectacular ridge of his body.

Aleena was right. He looks so dashing in his tuxedo that he’s instantly forgiven for his tardiness. There isn’t a single eye he doesn’t seize during his walk across the room, so you can imagine how hard it is to keep my expression passive when he finally lifts his head.

I know those eyes.

That smoldering smirk.

I’ve raked my fingers through that dark hair more than once.

But something is amiss with this picture. Andrik’s neck tattoos are gone. His hands are void of the artwork that was faded enough to announce that it has been a part of his life for as long as he’s been an adult. And his nose ring and diamond earring that scream rebellion have also vanished.

I swear I’m sitting across from Andrik, but it is like the watered-down version of the bad boy I was instantly obsessed with.

I’m in such a state of shock that when Aleena offers an introduction, instead of denying the handshake her fiancé holds out in offering, I slide my hand into his non-tattooed one and whisper softly, “Zoya Sakharoff.”

His top lip twitches before his grip on my hand tightens. “Kazimir Dokovic.” As his briefest touch rockets a zap up my arm, he works his jaw side to side. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Zoya.” He even sounds like Andrik—if not a little less arrogant.

“Likewise,” I murmur before sinking back onto my chair, taking my hand with me.

Aleena watches me for a handful of seconds before she introduces Kazimir to Nikita and Maksim. Maksim’s expression is furious. I don’t know if it is because he, too, is wondering who the hell Kazimir is or because Ano is signaling to speak with him over Aleena’s shoulder.

Maksim waits for Kazimir and Aleena to move on to the table next to us before checking if Nikita is okay being left alone. By alone, he means without him. Half a dozen bodyguards keep her safe when Maksim isn’t in charge of the campaign.

“Yes. If we leave before you return, we will meet you back at the suite,” Nikita replies.

His forehead kiss steals my attention from Aleena and Kazimir. It is as PG as it comes, but anytime he does it, Nikita’s cheeks inflame as if he is dragging the tip of his nose down the opening of her vagina.

---