Page 11 of Cruel Existence

“Did something happen?” I smelled her shampoo. I inhaled the lotion off her neck. The proximity made me drunker than mixing liquors.

“Not a security threat. It’s my fault. Just something stupid I did.”

My eyebrows rose. “What was that?”

The way she looked at me made the world shift. I’d have believed there was a fucking earthquake if someone told me there was seismic activity in New Orleans.

“The worst sin of them all. I embarrassed my father.” Her gaze darted across the room. I saw the shadow too. I jumped back.

It wasn’t Ciro barging in this time.

“Mother.” I rose from the chaise. She held the train of her gown in her right hand. It draped over her wrist in cascades ofrich designer fabric. It was likely she had paid thousands for the dress. It would end up in a heap at the back of her closet and never worn again.

“What are you doing out here?” She wasn’t looking at me. However, she noticed Amara with a deep suspicious glare.

Amara stood quietly, taking the brunt of my mother’s scowl.

“Having a drink. Welcoming a new resident to town.” I grinned. “Have you met Lorenzo Amato’s daughter?” I introduced my mother to Amara. “They’ve only been in the city a few weeks. We’re getting to know each other.”

“No. I haven’t.” Her chin jerked upward.

“Amara, this is my mother, Anna Novikov, the one and only queen of New Orleans.” My mother had a love-hate relationship with the title.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Novikov. Congratulations on your daughter’s wedding.”

There was tension. Pressure. They immediately disliked each other.

“Amato? Is that Italian,” Mother asked.

Amara nodded. Shit. An Italian mafia family did not bode well with the Russian mafia. In some cities, they worked well together. New York, for instance, but here in New Orleans we didn’t like to share our piece of the underground world with anyone.

“Hmm. We’re about to toast your sister and Andrey. You’re needed in the house. With your family. The Petrovs have been asking about you, Luka. Come.”

“Of course.” I extended my arm toward Amara. “Shall we? I don’t want you to miss my father’s toast. He’s known for oratorical masterpieces.” I winked and saw Amara cover her mouth to hide her laughter. I was pleased she wasn’t intimidated. The girl was impressive.

Ciro followed us across the lawn and into the party. His attention on us was as lethal as my mother’s.

I didn’t care. Suddenly, my night had gotten a lot more interesting.

Five

AMARA

Who was Luka Novikov? Why did I take his arm and let him lead me away from the only sanctuary I had found? The pool house was boring and empty. I couldn’t make bad decisions and end up online as long as I kept a healthy distance from everyone. Why was I standing with his family during the bride’s engagement toast?

The question I couldn’t stop asking was how had I found the man from the balcony again.

I smiled lightly while clutching a glass of champagne. The vodka had already warmed my muscles. His hand rested on my hip casually. As if it belonged there. As if we had done this a hundred times. It was exciting. Thrilling. The way he navigated my body.

A member of the band tapped out a drumroll to gather the rest of the guests to the ballroom.

A few minutes later, a man in a tuxedo climbed the steps to the stage and took the microphone from the lead singer with a smile.

The audience began to clap. I heard someone whisper behind me. “Dmitry worked so hard on this deal. He looks happy.”

“The Petrovs offered him a lot for Katya. One of the highest bids I’ve ever heard. A marvelous trade.”

Luka didn’t flinch at the words. Although, I was certain he heard them as clearly as I did.

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