I lifted my gaze to hers. “They’ve been called ‘boobs’ for decades, FYI. And considering the fact I was tied to a bed naked the last time we had guests, I find your request a bit hypocritical.”
She put her bony hands on her hips. “That was only in guest room. You were not flaunting your bosom around the house.”
Spread-eagled naked for guests to see in the guest room:
Not wearing a bra beneath my T-shirt downstairs:
Made sense.
I sighed. “What would you like me to do with my bosom, Yulia?”
“Strap it in a bra,” she said as if it was obvious. “And not some see-through thing only meant to arouse men’s urges.”
When she began a spiel about the necessary amount of support a bosom needed, I put up a finger to quiet her and said, “I’m taking this into consideration.”
She scowled, tapping her foot impatiently. After a longer than necessary pause, I finally dropped my finger.
“Well?” she snapped.
“No.” I brushed past her and down the hall.
“Insufferable hussy,” she mumbled.
“Old bat,” I shot back.
I headed toward the dining room for breakfast but stopped in the hall when I saw Gianna and Kat on the drawing room couch with a massive platter of food in front of them.
“Mila!” Gianna exclaimed, a sly smile forming as she looked me over. “I told you the next time we saw each other, there’d be less ropes and more clothes.” Then a frown appeared, and she snapped her fingers like an opportunity lost. “I knew I should have bet on it, but you didn’t seem in the right mindset for a wager.”
I had the feeling she was serious.
“Apparently, I’m destitute, so your winnings would be slim.”
“No worries. I’ve already skimmed the top off Yulia’s pocketbook this morning,” she said. “Don’t let her poor housekeeper ploy fool you. She has a mountain of five-thousand-ruble notes in her closet, and she safeguards them like a troll.”
I’d believe anything these days.
I took a seat in the armchair across from her and stole a grape from the platter, pulling my legs up underneath me. “Do I want to know what you were betting on?”
Gianna pursed her lips in thought. “I usually love the power of playing with people’s minds, but I like you, so I’m going to keep this one a secret for now.”
My mind was a complete mess as it was, so I didn’t complain. “Thanks, I guess.” I plopped the grape in my mouth.
She laughed.
My stomach was in such knots from the earlier phone call and scene with Ronan, I had to force the grape down my throat. But in an effort to pretend my world wasn’t crashing down around me, I filled a small plate with fresh fruit. As I did, my attention turned to Kat, who was shoving a folded rainbow-colored pancake in her mouth, her eyes on her demented princess game.
“Your daughter is beautiful,” I said sincerely, knowing she’d be a jaw-dropper someday. Or jawbreaker.
Gianna cast a warm smile at Kat and ran a hand down her pigtail. “I’ll take that as a compliment since she and I seem to look a lot alike. But I blame her personality on her papa one hundred percent.”
A perfectly timed, “Cut off his head!” sounded from the phone, pulling laughs from us both.
When the amusement faded, Gianna made an uncomfortable expression and rubbed her pregnant belly. The baby was either massive like his papa and uncle, or she was close to popping any day now.
“When are you due?” I asked.
“Three weeks, but I have a feeling he’s never going to come out. When I get home tomorrow, I need to start doing yoga.” She sighed as if the thought put her out. “But that’s probably not going to happen because I’ve been excommunicated from my studio, and I’ve never been good at motivating myself.”
“Surely, there’s more than one yoga studio in New York City.”
She frowned. “I guess I should have said I’ve been excommunicated from all the studios.”
“Oh . . .”
After a short pause, we both laughed again.
Gianna radiated warmth, and I already felt lighter, but any chance of a better mood crashed and burned when a familiar sultry voice entered the equation.
“I hope I am not interrupting anything.”
Slowly, I slid my gaze to the doorway to see Nadia in the flesh. Her black hair was clipped to one side in a sleek wave that reached her waist. Dark red lips. Kohled eyes. She wore a nude wrap dress beneath a long mink coat. I wondered if Ronan had bought it for her. The idea wrenched my stomach, threatening to expel the single grape inside.
The opera singer was gorgeous, exuding sex from every pore. She was the kind of woman all women compared themselves to. A look at her made one feel lacking on impact. Why would Ronan spare me a glance when this woman was around? I rejected the thought just as fast as my new family rejected me.
Je suis parfaite comme je suis. Tu es parfaite comme tu es. Nous sommes parfaites comme nous sommes. I am perfect as I am. You are perfect as you are. We are perfect as we are.
Feeling the French work its magic, I pulled my gaze to Gianna just in time to see her roll her eyes. “Of course not, Nadia. It seems you’ve been cordially invited in anyway.”
Noticing the sarcasm in her voice, I finally spotted Pavel standing behind Nadia. He shifted uncomfortably. Clearly, Nadia wasn’t supposed to be here, but it seemed he didn’t know how to remove her. He was taller than her even though she wore five-inch stilettos, so, clearly, his turmoil was an emotional battle and not a physical one.
“Oh, good,” Nadia said with a charming Russian accent, waltzing toward us. “I do not know how I forget how long the drive here is every time.” She pursed her lips. “Though usually, I am not alone, and I do think they say time flies when you are having fun.”
I was going to vomit.
Literally.
I wouldn’t compare myself to her, but I still couldn’t stomach the thought of her hands on Ronan. Or his on her. The idea dropped a boulder on my chest. The urge to get up and walk out seared my every nerve, but doing so would only let Nadia win, so I forced myself to remain.
Nadia pulled off her extravagant fur coat, set it on the back of the chair next to mine, and sat, crossing her legs like a queen. A small gift box fell out of her coat to the floor.
Gianna raised a brow. “Have I missed someone’s birthday?”
Nadia laughed. “No. I saw something at the store and thought of Ronan, so I just had to buy it.”
“Well, don’t leave us in suspense,” Gianna said.
“Oh. Okay.” Her tone implied she was being pressured into telling us when it was clear she was desperate to share. “Do not tell him, but it is a Louis Vuitton scarf with vintage frayed ends,” she announced proudly.
We both stared at her. The only thing Ronan would do with a scarf was strangle someone with it.
“Wow,” Gianna deadpanned. “I am positive he will love it.”
Nadia smiled before saying, “God, I am famished.” Without another word, she began to load her plate with the bliny that weren’t rainbow-colored, apparently oblivious to the tension in the air.
“So what brings you here, Nadia, other than to give gifts?” Gianna sipped her tea. “I’m sure your French cook is just as good as Polina.”