Page 60 of His to Ruin

By the time my twenty-first birthday comes around, I’m excited about my party. My mother doesn’t apologize for plowing ahead with her plans for a grand event, but she checks in with me about the choice of canapes and flowers. It’s her way of smoothing things over with me because apologies just don’t happen in my family.

As we drive to the Madeline, the flagship hotel in the Reznov Bratva’s considerable property portfolio, I take a moment to admire Piotr. For once, he’s wearing a white shirt rather than his signature black. Despite the searing summer heat, he’s got a jacket and tie on in deference to my mother’s strict dress code. My gown probably won’t meet with her approval.

A sapphire blue that brings out the color of my eyes, it’s a simple beaded sheath dress with a slit that goes all the way to my thigh and a neckline that shows the swell of my breasts. It’s held up by thin straps that Piotr will no doubt tear apart later when herushes to get me out of the dress. He told me before we left our apartment that’s what he intended to do.

My hair is slicked back in a low ponytail and my makeup screams femme fatale. This is my party, after all, and I intend to ensure everyone knows who their new queen is.

When we pull up outside the hotel, Piotr doesn’t get straight out of the car.

“I want to give you your present before we go in,” he says.

“You already gave me this.” I touch the diamond necklace encircling my throat.

“That’s a mere accessory.” He speaks as if it didn’t cost more than most people earn in ten years. I have to admit I’m delighted there’s another present. Diamonds are nice, but I’m not a huge fan of jewelry. I only wear it because it’s expected of me. “This is the actual gift.”

“Your phone?” I tease, as he pulls it out of his pocket.

“No, smartass.” He opens his photo app and passes the phone to me. “This is.”

My jaw practically hits my knee as I stare at the image on the phone. It’s a large house, set in a beautiful garden.

“I know this place. It’s in Westport.”

Piotr nods. “I thought you’d like somewhere near your family’s place.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“You’ll have to redecorate,” he tells me, as if that’s some sort of hardship. “The previous owners haven’t updated it in thirty years.”

“This is amazing.” I can’t believe he bought me a house. I lean over to kiss him, but he backs away. “It’s not all. Look at the next photo.”

I flick to the next image and gasp. A cute fluffy white face looks back at me. “You bought me a puppy?”

“Not yet. There’s a litter of Westies available and I thought you’d like to choose one. We’re going to see them on Sunday.”

I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. He listened when I told him what would make me happiest. It was such an inconsequential conversation I didn’t think he’d remember it.

“You really do love me, don’t you?” I ask.

“Of course I do.” Piotr brushes my cheek with his knuckles. “How could I not?”

For once, I don’t come back at him with a sassy but self-deprecating comment. Instead, I revel in knowing this incredible man loves me.

A minute passes and then Piotr clears his throat. “We should go in. Everyone is waiting for the guest of honor.”

Piotr gets out of the car first and waits patiently while I slide across the seat. He takes my hand to help me. The moment my feet hit the sidewalk, people call my name and photographers jostle each other in their attempts to get the best shot of me and Piotr. It’s been a while since the paparazzi have shown any interest in me, but my marriage to a powerful businessman and reputed mobster has put me back in the public eye.

We don’t stop to pose for pictures. Piotr wraps a protective arm around my shoulder and hurries me into the hotel. As we enter the ballroom, the band stops playing.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the singer announces. “Please put your hands together for our guest of honor, Mrs. Olivia Reznov.”

I wince, not because he addressed me incorrectly, but because I didn’t want to make such a grand entrance. Now that I’m the focus of attention, I smile and nod gracefully, like a beauty pageant contestant as everyone applauds. As Piotr leads me across the room, the fuss gradually dies down.

Dozens of people greet me, wishing me a happy birthday. Instead of gifts, I’ve asked for donations to Giulia’s charity, a community center that helps women and kids from Mafia families. It wasn’t intended to bridge the gap between Matteo’s wife and me, but it’s had that effect, anyway. Giulia and I have met up several times over the last week to discuss how she’ll use the money. We’ve known each other all my life, but this is the first time we’ve acted like friends.

The ballroom is beautifully decorated with flowers in pinks and creams. There’s no ice sculpture, thank goodness, but photographs of me through the years play in a loop on a massive screen. My mother rushes toward me, an anxious expression on her face.

“What do you think, Olivia?”

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