Page 101 of Beautiful Cruelty

"We will," he says simply. "Together."

29

LACEY

The dawnParisian air hits my face as we descend the steps from the jet. The stylist team waves goodbye, their chatter fading into the morning breeze. My muscles ache from sitting still for so long, but the thrill of being in Paris makes me forget my discomfort or the reason why we're here.

"This way," Vadim says, his hand settling on my lower back as he guides me toward a sleek black Mercedes.

Demyon opens the door and I slide in, the leather seats cool against my skin. Vadim follows, his thigh pressing against mine in the spacious backseat.

"The Peninsula Paris," he tells me as soon as the doors close. "It's close to the cathedral."

I peek out the window as we pull away from the tarmac. "How close?”

"Five minutes." His fingers drum against his knee. "I've arranged for complete privacy. The entire hotel is ours."

"The entire hotel?" I turn to face him. "That seems..."

"Excessive?" A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. "Perhaps. But myboevikineed somewhere to stay while they ensure our safety."

The word 'safety' sends a shiver down my spine. This isn't just a romantic getaway. It's a heist. A dangerous one. My hands twist in my lap as reality sinks in.

Vadim's hand covers mine, stilling their nervous movement. "You're safe with me,zvyozdochka."

The endearment makes my heart flutter despite everything. I look up at him, finding those storm-gray eyes fixed on me with an intensity that steals my breath.

"Your men," I say. "They'll be disguised as hotel staff?"

He nods, thumb tracing circles on my palm. "Among other things."

Just then, Demyon's phone rings. He answers in Russian, his expression darkening with each word. When he hangs up, he turns to look at Vadim.

"Olga Romanovna is already at the Peninsula Paris," Demyon says. "She demands to know what's going on and refuses to leave until you explain yourself."

Vadim's hand tightens around mine. A string of harsh Russian curses escapes his lips.

I study his profile, noting how his jaw clenches. "Your stepmother?"

"Yes." The word comes out like ice.

She sounds terrifying, and I haven't even met her yet.

"What do we do?" I ask.

"We face her." Vadim's thumb traces my engagement ring. “The only way to get past this is to get through it.”

“There’s no other way?” The word comes out squeakier than I intend.

“No other way.” His eyes meet mine. "Unless you'd rather wait in the car while I handle this?"

The challenge in his voice stirs something in me. "No. I won't hide."

A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. "Good." His fingers trail up my arm. “Nothing will infuriate her more than seeing us united."

The way he says 'united' sends shivers down my spine. Before I can respond, the car slows to a stop outside an elegant building with cream-colored stone and wrought iron balconies.

The Peninsula Paris looms before us, its elegant façade a stark contrast to the tension crackling in the air. As we step through the gilded entrance, my heart nearly stops.

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