Page 124 of The Payback

“Nik!” she squeals, reaching past Dimitri and me and throwing her arms around her cousin. “It’s so good to see you!” She then switches to Russian, rapid-firing sentences and questions at him so quickly there’s no end in sight. He laughs as he deflects most of them with well-practised ease.

Dimitri leans close and whispers in my ear, “Did you know she was coming?”

“I had no idea,” I say honestly. “I didn’t even know Oksana invited her.”

Natasha is pulled into conversation with various people, and we use the opportunity to slip away now that attention has shifted to her.

Dinner is announced, and the musicians quiet down the instrumental music. I’d hardly noticed it earlier, and now, it’s soft and melodic, fading into the background until it’s suitable background noise.

On cue, the double doors open, and people are ushered into the dining area from the atrium. Dimitri exchanges a few handshakes as we enter the dining space, and I accept the congratulations with polite nods of gratitude.

The room, which was in shambles yesterday when I saw it, is now perfectly arranged. Round tables, pristine porcelain plates, and more utensils than necessary are dressed in the colours I chose at that lunch so long ago.

Servers stand at the room’s perimeter with wine bottles and champagne, ready to pour once everyone has taken their seats.

Dimitri and I head to the table at the front of the room as the couple of the hour. We have to put on a show for them, and we do. Dimitri gracefully takes my hand and leads me to the chair, pulling it out and only pushing it in again once my ass hovers above it.

He sits beside me, and with a wave of his hand, the servers offer drinks to everyone gathered.

It looks like everyone Oksana sent invitations to accepted. She was right. No one wanted to miss the first significant appearance Dimitri made since stepping into his role, and based on the conversations I caught during our mingling, they’ve been waiting for him to step out.

Too many commented that they’d been trying to contact him for months. And now that I know why he’s been avoiding this role and his responsibilities, I’m proud of him for putting things off and keeping himself out of the illegal dealings as much as possible.

The musicians continue their soft playing, keeping the ambience calm. The servers have their work cut out for them, even more so because they’re all agents and waiting on people is not high on their list of skills.

Nik sits on my other side, not quite front and centre like Dimitri and me, but not far away. As our bodyguard, it is not unusual he is close to us, and honestly, it makes me feel better having him within reach.

We work our way through the dinner menu, me pushing aside more food than I’m consuming because my attention is on the people around us and my husband at my side. He eats with his usual gusto, skipping most of the chicken because he hates white meat. Nik, on the other hand, has no such reservations, and by the time the dessert plate arrives, I can’t possibly look at another morsel while the two of them continue to eat.

How? I’m convinced men have second stomachs because, without one of those, it’s impossible.

Once Dimitri finishes his dessert wine, he gently folds his napkin and places it on his empty plate as he stands.

“Will you dance with me, wife?” he asks, that silky voice curling around my honorific.

I nod and smile, letting him pull me up from the chair. He spins me out with a flourish, then pulls me in close again, trapping me against his chest. The musicians begin their instrumental version of “Battlefield” by SVRCINA, and Dimitri begins to move. When Oksana agreed to my request for the musicians, I called them once they’d been booked and told them this was our song.

Meeting each other on the battlefield is suitable for the two of us. In my mind, the lyrics about being each other’s sword, shield, and camouflage play softly.

Dimitri gracefully leads me in the dance, a simple step he guides me through, never letting his eyes stray from mine.

I look over his shoulder, meeting the eyes of our guests as they watch us under the chandelier. As we take another turn, I look towards the head table and see Nik.

He’s slightly hunched over, his hand bound around his stomach, and when Dimitri turns us around the floor and I face Nik again, I see the sheen of sweat on his brow.

Fuck. Oksana made her move, and it wasn’t the one we were expecting. That was why we had Zach stalking the party.

My hand tightens on Dimitri’s back, the feel of the Kevlar below bumping softly under my finger pads. “We need to be done,” I whisper. “And you need to act sick.”

His smile starts to fall, and he holds me tighter. “What’s happening?”

“Poison. Do you feel it?” I ask. Checking in with myself, I assess but feel nothing amiss. I’d been pushing my food all over my plate instead of eating. Nik stands from the table, gripping the back of the chair.

“I thought that was just the spices,” he says, concern lacing his voice.

The song ends, and Dimitri gracefully invites others to join us on the dancefloor with a wave of his hand. He’s not known to be particularly social, so Dimitri drags me away towards Nik once enough couples are on the hardwood dance floor.

“I thought you said Oksana was planning a sniper,” Nik says as he clutches his stomach.

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