Page 102 of Beautiful Cruelty

A woman stands in the center of the marble lobby, surrounded by men in dark suits. Even from this distance, I can tell she's beautiful in the way a marble statue is beautiful—cold, perfect, untouchable. Her silver-streaked dark hair is pulled into an immaculate chignon, her tailored Chanel suit looks impeccably pressed, and rings decorate every single one of her fingers.

But it's her eyes that make my breath catch.

They're an icy blue, and completely devoid of warmth.

My fingers tighten around Vadim's arm as we approach. His muscles are taut beneath my touch, though his face remainsimpassive. I force my spine straight, channeling every ounce of grace I can muster. I won't let this woman see me trembling.

"Olga Romanovna," Vadim says, stepping forward to greet her. "I wasn't expecting?—"

The crack of her palm against his cheek echoes through the lobby. I flinch at the sound, but Vadim doesn't move an inch. A red mark blooms across his skin where her rings have caught him.

My fingers dig into Vadim's arm, but he remains stone-still beside me. Only the muscle ticking in his jaw betrays his tension.

"Olga Romanovna—" he begins, his voice level.

Another crack splits the air as her hand connects with his face again. The red mark deepens on his cheek.

"Tell me, bastard." Her icy blue eyes narrow. "Just what do you intend by bringingthis—" she waves a dismissive hand at me "—into the family?"

Something snaps inside me. All the fear, all the uncertainty about my place here evaporates in a surge of protective fury. Before I realize what I'm doing, I step forward.

"You have no right to speak to him like this!" My voice rings through the marble lobby. "He's the pakhan. Not you."

"And what," she sneers. "Makes you think thatyouhave any right to speak to me like this,devushka?"

"I have every right." I lift my chin. "I'm going to be his wife."

A predatory smile curves Olga's blood-red lips as she studies me. The air seems to grow colder under her frigid gaze.

"Wife,devushka?" she says, extending one perfectly manicured hand. "In that case, let us speak privately, one Stravinsky's wife to another."

Vadim's storm-gray eyes search mine and his arm tenses beneath my fingers. "Lacey?—"

"It's okay." I squeeze his arm, surprised by how steady my voice sounds. "I can handle her."

I rise on tiptoe and press a kiss to his cheek, right where Olga struck him. His skin is warm against my lips, and I feel him inhale sharply at the contact.

Olga's smile turns razor-sharp. "Follow."

I releaseVadim's arm and follow after her, my feet silent against the marble floor while her Louboutin heels echo with every step as she leads me toward a private sitting room off the main lobby.

The door closes behind us with a soft sound that reminds me of a prison cell door locking. Olga gestures to an elegant seat, but I remain standing.

I won't give her the height advantage.

"You certainly have spirit." she says, circling me like a shark. "But spirit alone won't be enough to survive in this world."

I meet her icy stare. "I'm not afraid of you."

"It's notmethat you should be afraid of,devushka." She stops directly in front of me. "It's his fiancée."

My heart stops. "What do you mean, his fiancée?"

"Has he not spoken a word about Sayanaa?" Olga's smile grows cruel.

I shake my head, unable to form words as she circles closer.

"Sayanaa Kuular." Her rings catch the light as she gestures. "Was promised to the Stravinsky heir since she was a child. A bratva princess through and through. She is not one who will takeyourslight to her honor so graciously."

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