Page 148 of Twisted Pact
“Mr. Haugh is from the Tribune,” I tell my brother. “The reporter we authorized to cover the wedding.”
Dmitri’s eyes narrow slightly. “I see.”
Tony holds up both hands. “Just doing my job. Getting quotes, taking notes.” He glances past me toward the bar where Sasha is laughing with Katya. “Beautiful wedding. Your sister seems lovely.”
Something about the way he says it puts me on alert. “Stay away from her.”
“Relax; I’m just making conversation.” He tucks his business card into my jacket pocket. “Call me if you want to discuss what I know. Or don’t. Either way, congratulations on the marriage.”
He walks away before I can respond. Dmitri watches him go with narrowed eyes.
“You know him?” I ask.
“Never seen him. But I don’t like that they sent someone new without notice.”
“Neither do I.”
We watch Tony work through the crowd. He stops at the bar near where Sasha is standing and says something that makes her laugh. She smiles and extends her hand.
“Should I intervene?” Dmitri asks.
“Not yet, but keep an eye on him.”
Mila returns with her water and notices my mood change. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I pull her close and kiss her temple. “Just wedding day paranoia.”
She searches my face before nodding. “Okay. But you’ll tell me if something is actually wrong?”
“Always.”
The reception continues into the evening. Dinner is served, toasts are made, and Mila and I cut the cake while photographers document every moment.
I keep one eye on Sasha and Tony throughout the night. They’re still talking. She seems charmed by whatever story he’s telling. He’s too attentive, and far too interested.
“You need to relax,” Mila whispers as we dance. “You’re supposed to be enjoying your wedding.”
“Iamenjoying it.”
“You’re scowling at your sister.”
“She’s talking to the reporter from the Tribune who’s covering the wedding.”
Mila glances over my shoulder toward the bar. “The American?”
“Said his name is Tony Haugh.”
“And you think he’s dangerous?”
“I think any journalist asking questions about our family is worth watching. Especially one we’ve never worked with.”
She rests her head against my chest. “Can we worry about this tomorrow? Today is ours.”
She’s right. Today is ours. We fought for this. Survived threats and violence and constant danger to get here. I’m not letting some American investigator ruin it.
“Tomorrow,” I agree.
We dance until Mila’s feet protest. Then we sit at our table surrounded by family and friends. Leonid tells embarrassing stories about Mila’s childhood, and Dmitri shares equally embarrassing stories about mine. Everyone laughs.
