Page 83 of Devious Secrets

“I’ll walk you out.” Ivan steps in and gives the judge an exit strategy. He shoots me a glare as he follows the judge from the living room to the foyer.

When Megan finally turns to me, her features have softened slightly. “I should go change.”

“No. Absolutely not.” I grab her hand, bringing it up to my mouth, and kiss her knuckles. “I’ve had Mrs. Wells make a special meal for us. It’s waiting in the dining room.”

She frowns.

“It will only take a few minutes.” She glances over at Elana, looking for help I assume, but it’s not going to come from that corner of the room.

“People are waiting for us.” I firmly plant her arm through mine and pull her along.

“What does that mean?” She doubles her efforts to stop, but I’m stronger and more than willing to carry her if need be. She wanted to play games, why stop now?

When we get to the double doors of the dining room, Elana comes to stand behind my wife.

“I told you not to wear that ugly thing,” she whispers.

Megan twists her neck to look at Elana, then back at me.

“What’s going on?”

“Pozdravlyaem!” The dining room is filled with the Volkov men and a handful of women.

I freeze at the door.

“You should have listened to me,” Elana whispers again.

“You could have told me about this,” I mutter back at her.

“What’s wrong, wife?” Alexander squeezes my hand.

“You’re trying to humiliate me,” I accuse, but there isn’t much fire behind the words. Hadn’t I just done the same thing by wearing this atrocity to the ceremony?

There’s a crush of people making their way toward us, many speaking to Alexander in Russian. I’m barely acknowledged other than a quick glance before they give their congratulations to him.

“Congratulations on your wedding.” A man hands Alexander an envelope.

Alexander takes the gift and hands it off to Kaz who holds several other envelopes. Most of the men make a quick greeting before heading away from us, but this man switches to Russian and draws Alexander into a conversation.

“Who was that?” I ask when they finally stop talking and the man rejoins a smaller group in the far corner of the room.

“His name is Oleg, one of my men.” Alexander gestures toward a waitstaff carrying a tray of champagne glasses.

“He didn’t even look at me. None of them did,” I comment when Alexander hands me a glass of champagne during a short interlude of well-wishers.

“Because if their eyes linger longer than appropriate, even for a second, I’ll have them cut from their heads.” He speaks with such sincerity, but he has to be joking. He’s not that mad, is he?

“That’s a little extreme.” I try to laugh off his ridiculous comment. “Even for you.”

After I down the champagne, he removes the flute from my hand.

“It’s my way, Megan. What’s mine is mine, and I will do whatever I have to in order to keep it safe.” His eyes are firm when he says this. He’s told me this before, but it’s different somehow this time. Like his words are heavier now that I bear his last name.

“A lingering look isn’t dangerous,” I nearly whisper. His possessive glare has me captivated.

“It is for them.” He places my empty flute on the table. “Dinner will be served soon. Go up and change into something else. I think we’ve both made our points.”

I look around the large dining room with the extended table with settings for twenty. These are his men and their wives, and they’ve come to congratulate him on his marriage. It’s important, I’m sure, to make this event somewhat public so word will travel that he’s married me, but these are his men. No matter how pissed he makes me, trying to embarrass him with this dress was in bad taste.

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