Then, Tatiana steps out of her office and her eyes catch mine. Immediately, her mouth rounds in bemusement at my presence, and she storms over to the assistant who flinches at her boss’s annoyance.
Even Cassiopeia catches onto Tatiana’s hissed words as she turns to watch the assistant be dressed down with a tut.
As angry as I am at being made to wait, I already know this is going to be the first and last time Cassiopeia will come to this store. Which, to be honest, is annoying seeing as I hold shares in the goddamn place.
But that tut…
It’s in defense of the underdog.
No way will she get along with Tatiana.
Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that she’s a survivor of abuse.
With me, she’s outspoken and difficult, unafraid to drench me in lemonade or to state her opinion. The latter being something I wholeheartedly approve of even if it will cost me a cut in the profits of this store.
Sheshouldknow her place—at my side. My queen.
Unaware that she’s already lost my patronage, Tatiana obsequiously greets, “Pakhan,” as she strides over on stilettos that are as sharp as the knife holstered to my shoulder. “I wasn’t made aware that you were visiting today. My sincerest apologies.”
Her surgically enhanced face is tight and shiny as she beams a smile at me before gracing my cheeks with kisses I do not want.
Well, I didn’t.
Until I see that Cassiopeia’s glower has merely deepened.
Satisfaction thrums through me as I enjoy the mutual madness that being together has triggered. Still, I dislodge myself from Tatiana’s squid-like embrace with an arched brow as the other womanknowsI don’t appreciate being touched.
The familiarity is perhaps another reason why it’s time to terminate my involvement in the business despite it being one of the highest-grossing storefronts in this part of Miami Beach.
Or… hmm.
I wonder if Pavel’s wife, Maria, would like to take over.
She loves fashion, after all, and I have a feeling she and Cassiopeia would get along... as much as Maria is capable of getting along with other women, that is.
Unaware I’m making and breaking her role in the business she built from the ground up, Tatiana states, “I also apologize on behalf of my assistant. She’s new and doesn’t understand the importance of serving her betters.”
That last part is hissed and the other woman blanches, her head ducking and shoulders hunching in response to the verbal cut.
“It’s our fault,” Cassiopeia defends, sliding into my side, her arm coming around my waist in a way I’d permit with no one else.
Never mind another woman.
Tatiana’s eyes bug as she watches Cassiopeia settle her hand on my abdomen possessively, mirroring our earlier stance where I held her like this.
The proprietor soon catches herself and demurs, “I’m sure it could never be the Pakhan’s fault.”
“We asked her to serve us different champagne and Dmitri was flirting with her.” She hitches a shoulder. “Hardly her fault when we distracted her.”
Tatiana clears her throat. “If you say so, ma’am.” She dips her head in a regal salute. “I assume you’re here for a gown for the New Year’s gala?” At my nod, Tatiana, back on solid ground, takes over, declaring, “Come with me.” But I notice that her gaze locks on the way I tangle my fingers with Cassiopeia’s before she does so.
Her existence in my life will come as a short, sharp shock for many of my men and their womenfolk who, I know, had hoped I’d find a broodmare among their families.
I doubt Pavlivshev will be the only ‘problem’ I have to deal with in the upcoming weeks.
As we move into the private room, Cassiopeia follows Tatiana and I shoot Dmitri a look. “When she picks the dresses she’d like to try, escort Tatiana out of the changing area.”
He shrugs as he takes a sip of champagne from the flute he snagged. “Fine.”