Page 27 of A Bride for the Bratva Boss
“Well,” he says, looking Liza over like she’s an unwanted accessory someone snuck past security. “Perla didn’t exaggerate. You did bring someone…unexpected, Danyl.”
I feel Liza tense and my jaw locks.
Rik steps forward with an easy, deadly smile. “Senator. Lovely turnout tonight.”
“It usually is,” Gahr replies. “Although some guests do stand out.” His eyes flicker Liza’s way again before exchanging a look with his wife.
Monica smirks at Liza. “Darling, where did you find that dress? It’s very ambitious.”
Heat slams through me like a punch. I’m seconds from snapping, my hands curl into fists.
Liza speaks before I can act. “Thank you,” she says softly, stepping away from me as she holds out her dress. Not meek, but controlled. Elegant. “Perla picked it out for me when we went shopping today. I was afraid it would be too expensive, but she insisted your standards required top-of-the-line couture.”
She’s killing them with kindness. And for a moment, I’m too proud to speak.
Perla loops her arm through Liza’s, a movement so smooth it looks instinctive. “It’s perfect,” she says loudly enough for the surrounding donors to hear. “And Danyl hasn’t taken his eyes off her since we got here.”
Senator Gahr’s expression curdles. “Still,” he says, “tonight is about public image. And a hasty choice…a hasty marriage doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in a person’s dependability.”
I pull Liza back to my side, hand settling low on her back. “Nobody needs to worry about my choices,” I say evenly, “they are not up for negotiation.”
Gahr’s nostrils flare. Monica’s eyes narrow. The game has officially begun.
The next hour is a blur of forced handshakes, false compliments, smiles sharpened to points. Every wealthy donor here is pretending they have power, but they are all in Rik’s pocket now. He’s the gamemaster of this chessboard. The Senator walks around like he’s still relevant. Like he still has power.
He doesn’t anymore.
Perla owns him. Fully, quietly, irrevocably. And he hates her for it.
Which means he hates all of us.
I want to be with my wife, but the political game separates the spouses. I watch her across the room and worry chills me when I see Liza moving through the room like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible. Her fingers trembles as she grips her clutch. The hurt is there, in the slight hunch of her shoulders.
She feels out of place, no matter how much I want to tell her she looks like the only real thing in this whole glittering charade. Someone needs to die for making her feel unwanted. I step out of my current conversation mid-sentence. The important someone I don’t give a fuck about, spluttering as I walk across the room to get to my wife.
I lean down when I reach her. “You okay?”
She forces a smile. “I’m fine.”
Liar. I want to touch her cheek. Tilt her chin up. Tell her she’s the most beautiful woman here and that none of these people matter.
But there are cameras. Watching eyes. And if they see how much she matters to me, I’ve painted a target on her back.
So I hold myself in place. Barely.
Another hour goes by, and then Alexei appears, his face tight. He nods at me, but it’s Rik he approaches. Murmuring something in his ear. Alexei looks out of place in a regular suit, but people are used to political aides showing up with messages, so nobody reacts.
Rik excuses himself from the cluster of men surrounding him. He nods for me to follow.
In a corner of the room, half-hidden by gold-trimmed curtains, we face Alexei who lowers his voice. “Bad news.”
Rik’s expression doesn’t change, but the shift in the air is instant.
“What kind,” I ask.
“The man who attacked Liza? The one she…neutralized?” My pulse spikes as Alexei continues, “He’s connected to the Chrome Demons MC.”
Fuck. The Demons, a territorial motorcycle gang involved in everything from gun-running to extortion. And very pissed off that Rik’s moving in on their turf.
