Page 141 of Silenced

I blink. “If you hurt me, he’ll kill you.”

That has her winking. “At least he’ll make it fast.”

And with that, she drifts away.

Niko arches a brow at me, but I merely smile and prepare myself for the audience we’re about to hold.

I’m not entirely sure how this is my life, how men are kissing the backs of my knuckles and how women are literally curtsying at Niko as if he’s the last tsar and trying to hide their bemusement and their jealousy when they’re forced to greet me afterward.

It’d make more sense for this production to be for a movie or something, but nope.

It’s legit.

When a woman, eyes glittering with fire, approaches, Dmitri suddenly appears from wherever he tucked tail and ran to.

Then, I hear him utter her name as he tugs on her arm. “Myata.”

The daughter.

What continues is a flood of Russian that I can’t understand but each word packs a punch because her already-erect spine turns even straighter.

She nods at him, though, without looking at him, and drifts forward.

You’d think that her anger would be aimed at Nikolai, but nope, she clearly has no sense because it’s all aimed at me.

Every last ounce of it.

Heaving a sigh, I brace myself for impact because I don’t think Dmitri’s words have done anything other than bake her anger to soufflé-esque proportions.

But she stuns me by curtsying.

Nikolai signs, “I didn’t think you’d be in attendance tonight, Myata. Your father was recently buried, wasn’t he?”

Shocked that he’s prodding her, I cut him a look and, for the first time, spy something other than apathy in his gaze.

She replies in Russian.

Nikolai signs, “Don’t be rude, Myata. Speak English.”

Nostrils flaring, she snaps, “He was, Pakhan,da.”

“I’m sorry that I was too busy to attend.” He tilts his head to the side. “I’m sure you can understand why I couldn’t be there. What with the rumor mill floating around our supposed engagement.” His eyes narrow into slits. “I assume that was your doing?”

He rests an elbow on his armrest, the one that’s beside mine, and holds out his hand, straight up.

It’s too blatant a move for me to fail to understand his intentions.

Gingerly, I mimic him and slide mine against his palm.

Almost immediately, the entire room releases a gasp because it puts our connection on full display.

I can almost feel the women looking for an engagement ring on my finger, but no dice.

Still, it’s a power play that has Myata flushing with embarrassment. “I apologize, Pakhan.”

Nikolai doesn’t make a move to dislodge our connection, nor does he accept her apology.

Her flush deepens but she fades into the crowd after curtsying one final time.

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