Page 84 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

“Well.”

He pauses, flustered. There’s nothing he likes less than getting to the point quickly. But I have a gala to get to, and he was late for this meeting as it is.

“Your new wife’s a hit.” He shrugs his burly shoulders, like he can’t understand it himself. As if the fake wife suggestion wasn’t his idea to begin with. “What can I say? Poll numbers are up. Way up. Richard Walsh’s apparently made some cryptic comments about your fast, convenient marriage, but the people aren’t buying it. They love her—and, by extension, you.”

“Maybe we should have Joy run for mayor,” Ludmil jests.

He throws a copy of theNational Poston the table. “Look at this.” Its headline oozes:Gavril Vaknin’s Mystery Wife Beautiful, Poised.Its picture shows her in a trim blue sundress feeding some swans at the park.

“And this.” Ludmil tosses another magazine on top, open partway. In the top right-hand corner is a picture of Joy and me at McDermont Hospital, serving soup to some patients. “Knew that was a slam dunk.”

“And this.” He tosses a few newspapers on the pile, one on top of the other, all gleefully reporting on other charity work and press conferences we attended.

“You should’ve gotten a wife months ago,” Rudy admits. “Although, I have to wonder. Where exactly did this Joy of yours come from? I mean, no one knows anything about her.”

“Good,” I say.

Ludmil nods. “Anyone with a history would have plenty of dirt for our opponents to dig up and use against us.”

“Still.” Rudy rubs at his generous jaw thoughtfully. “If we knew where she was from, we could take evasive measures to ensure that no one finds out anything we don’t want them to.”

Ludmil catches my eye—he’s got this one. “Rest assured that there’s nothing to find out. We know that much.”

He and I already discussed this days ago. Aside from straight-up torturing Joy for information, there’s no possible way anyone could find out about our arrangement. As for her past, what evidence is there against the story Ludmil and I spun about our epic meeting—the one that’s closer to the truth than I’d like: that we met at a pizza charity event, hit it off, and fell madly in love?

Who knows—it getting out that she was formerly homeless could even prove to be to the campaign’s benefit. Further underscoring how I’m a man of the people.

Ludmil and Rudy start arguing, but I tune them out. Silence speaks volumes on its own. I’ll give them another minute or so before telling Rudy to back the fuck off. The man means well. He just wants to be back in the loop. On my good side.

Too bad that I operate by a need-to-know principle. Especially for this. The fewer people who know about Joy’s past, the smaller the chance it will get out. I don’t like trusting people if I can help it.

“Is she ready for the Blue Stripe Gala?” Rudy asks.

“She has to be,” Ludmil says simply.

“It’ll be her biggest public appearance yet,” Rudy continues with a significant flicker of his auburn brows. “Risky.”

Ludmil snorts. “Are you volunteering to impersonate her and guarantee our success yourself instead? I don’t think you’d be able to pull off the dress and heels, unfortunately.”

Rudy rubs at his nape with an offended expression. “Fuck off. We all know the crowd won’t just be easy-to-please press and civilians this time. There’ll be donors, political influencers, even Richard Walsh himself. Just something to keep in mind.”

My hands clench on the edge of the table. “She’ll be fine.” Even around that filth Walsh, who will doubtlessly try something. He’s been far too quiet lately.

“Better than fine,” Ludmil argues. “You saw her with the press after the marriage license was signed. She was a natural. Besides, Mario is prepping her. He’s been drilling her for the past week.”

Rudy throws up his hands. “Alright, alright.”

“Why don’t we call her in now?” I suggest easily.

“Nownow?” Rudy asks nervously.

I nod to Ludmil, who gets out his phone. “Now now.”

A few minutes of waiting ensue. Rudy drills his fingers on the tabletop and Ludmil rotates the squeaky chair back and forth, until I’m ready to take the other chair and bash them both. Finally, the door opens. She’s here.

Joy strides in with her head at a tilt, her gaze wary. “You’ve never invited me into your campaign lair. Is this a test?”

“No,” Ludmil says.

---