Page 31 of The Bratva's Innocent Sold Bride
After a lightning-fast shower in the place that started this grand transition, I hurried downstairs to find Artem waiting for me outside in his dog run. He scampered up to me, giving me his most reproachful look. He’d already been fed by one of the staff, so it could only mean he thought I had abandoned him. He was supposed to sleep in his own room, which was decked out with beds and blankets and toys, but he always ended up in with me. It was no wonder he felt so betrayed when I never came to collect him last night.
“Sorry,” I said, scratching around his collar. “Things might have changed.” Changed into what, I didn’t know. How long would it last, I really didn’t know. But I didn’t hate waking up with happiness in my heart instead of bitterness and anger. “I’ll work on him,” I promised the dog.
He yipped, as if expressing confidence in my abilities. Or maybe he just wanted me to throw his toy. Since I was half-starved from all the exertion of last night, I only tossed his stuffed pig once and then snapped my fingers for him to follow me into the kitchen.
The first housekeeper I saw assured me that he hadn’t spent the night outside, so I stopped feeling so guilty. It was hard to feel anything other than giddy when I could still feel Mat’s lips everywhere on my body. The cook was there that day, preparing the next few dinners for us, and she presented me with a fresh scone dripping with butter and jam, along with a bouquet of wildflowers.
“The scone is from me, but the flowers arrived an hour ago from Mr. Fokin,” she said.
My face was going to start hurting if I smiled any harder. Since I suspected Mat would spot dog hairs in his office from twenty paces, I hauled his laptop into the living room and studied it.
“What happened to you?” I asked, running my hand over the dent in the metal case that wasn’t there the other day.
Before, it had only needed to be updated since the thing was sorely out of date. It was odd how a man who wore a thirty-thousand-dollar watch hung onto such an old piece of junk. He must not rely on computers much because working on such a machine has to be a slog.
“Maybe I should build him a new one,” I said absently. Artem glanced up from chewing on a rubber ball, then ignored me again as I went to work.
There wasn’t much I could do about the dent, but I got the thing running, updated it, installed new software that would make it faster, and then carefully cleaned the gummy keys.
“He really hates you, doesn’t he?” I asked the poor old, abused laptop. Artem whined. “No, not you, silly.”
I was in the middle of some pretty embarrassing baby talk to make sure the dog wouldn’t get a complex when Mat strolled in. It was just past three, way too early for dinner, but he didn’t look upset.
In fact, he looked excited as he swept a clear garment bag from behind his back. Jade green silk showed through the bag and flowed out from beneath the plastic. He also had a shopping bag looped over his other wrist, which he set down on the table beside his almost good-as-new laptop.
“For you,” he said.
I tore away the plastic to reveal a stunning dress that looked like it would flow almost to my ankles. The top was drapey, and it dipped in at the waist. The color made my mouth water, and the tag made me suck in a breath.
“I didn’t think it was for the dog,” I said. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I did,” he said. “Because you currently don’t have anything suitable to wear to the Exavier Foundation ball.”
I groaned. I hated galas, balls, and functions in general. It was just a bunch of champagne sipping and one-upping. The Exavier Foundation ball was the worst. Bigger and more extravagant than all the others during the year combined. They made a point to outdo themselves each year, and I feared it would eventually get to the point where they brought in live elephants to carry the guests from their limos into the venue.
The money raised would go to a good cause, but the amount spent planning and putting it on had to be at least twiceas much, probably more. Nobody seemed to care; just happy to put on all their diamonds and be seen.
“Wait, isn’t that tonight? How did you get an invitation to that?” I asked. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he said, pulling me into his arms and giving me a kiss that had me melting. “I don’t have an invitation. But I want to go. And I want to take my beautiful wife out on the town,” he quickly added.
“Ha,” I said, leaning back to look up at him. “You want me to wrangle a last-minute invite to the most exclusive event in the area.”
“Yes,” he said guilelessly.
“It’s obnoxious,” I warned him. “At least seventy percent of the people there will be unbearable.”
“I believe you. But I need to meet the upper crust of this town if I’m going to run it one day. You’ve known most of those people since you were born.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said, then broke out into a grin. One phone call later, and we were on the list, assured of a warm welcome.
Mat didn’t blink when I told him of the astronomical donation for the seats. He pulled out his tablet, which I noticed was just about as battered as his laptop, and showed me rows of familiar faces.
He wanted to know everything about every one of them before we left in four hours. Most of them were pretty straightforward. Hardworking people who’d gotten to the top by willpower and grit, like my father. Some were born into it, ahem, like me, and were just muddling along as best they could, either advancing their wealth or spending it like it was going out ofstyle. Then there were the little details like who was cheating on their spouses and with whom, and who had little habits they tried very hard to keep hidden.
Honestly, for all the gossip I had acquired over my lifetime, it was bizarre how I never suspected my father of being such a scoundrel. I was blinded by hero worship, and he made such a point of keeping me out of the business that there was no way I wasn’t blindsided the way I was.
The last few people on Mat’s list I saved for last.
