Page 23 of Sold to the Bratva
That’s why he’ll never see it coming. It would blindside him and rattle his perfect composure. Maybe I really can win, whatever winning ends up looking like. I rise, a fresh spark burning in my chest.
Evie grins. “You have a dangerous look in your eyes.”
I return her grin, victorious. “I’m going to destroy him.”
“Better pick a dress first.”
I glance at the rows of gowns and sigh. “Fine. But if you make me wear tulle, I’m calling off the wedding myself.”
I’m two seconds from declaring the day a bust when my gaze snags on a dress hanging alone at the back of the rack. It’s no shade of white that has ever existed and had no frills, no beads, nothing remotely bridal. It’s wicked, and it’s perfect.
I smirk and start walking toward the rack.
“Katya…” Evie murmurs, scandal tinting her voice as she spots my target.
“I’m just looking,” I say, all faux innocence.
“Uh-huh.”
I reach the dress and trail my fingers over the silk. It feels decadent and dangerous, everything my father hates. Isaac definitely won’t expect it coming down the aisle. With any luck he’ll be horrified. Game on.
A saleswoman spots me and approaches, her polite smile barely masking confusion.
“Would you like to see something else in white, Miss Belova?”
“No,” I say, still staring at the dress. “I want this one.”
She blinks. “That one’s not from the bridal collection.”
“I gathered.”
“It’s meant for a black-tie gala.”
I turn to face her and smile sweetly. “Well then, good thing I’m about to host one.”
She frowns. “But your wedding?—”
“This is the one I want.”
The poor woman has no idea how to respond. Her gaze darts between me and the dress, as though deciding whether to encourage me or call for backup.
Evie sidles up next to me, barely holding in her laugh. “You heard the bride. Ring it up.”
The woman hesitates, then nods. “Of course. Right this way.”
As we wander toward the counter, Evie whispers, “This is going to be so good.”
I fish Isaac’s black card from my purse and flick it like a victory flag.
The saleswoman launches into the checkout process, and I watch the numbers climb with smug satisfaction. Isaac said I had carte blanche, but he probably didn’t expect me to weaponize it this fast.
The card reader beeps. The instant I slide the card home, my phone rings.
I glance at the screen.
Papa.
Evie arches a brow. “Think he’s got cameras in here?” she asks, only half joking.
