For a second, the well-practiced act Dania puts on for the world cracks, and a flicker of concern slips into her dark eyes. Going on tiptoes, she kisses my cheek. “Do take care, Alex. I hope you’re making progress in tracking down whoever wants you dead.”
“I am,” I lie.
“You know my father would gladly help.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise.”
She bites her lip, regarding me quietly for a moment. “You know, Alex, you and me—”
“There is no you and me, Dania.”
Money is as important to her as it is to her father. She’s always been more interested in my wallet than in my heart.
She puts on a fake smile. Just like that, her mask is back in place. “I suppose I won’t see you before the party then. Papa is going to extreme measures with security. I guess the reason is you.”
“I guess,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets.
Flashing me another practiced smile, she walks to the door. “Don’t be a stranger, Alex,” she says, pausing in the frame. “Papa considers you a friend.”
I follow her with my gaze as she walks through the foyer and past Grigori’s desk.
The minute she gets into the elevator, my assistant rushes over.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Volkov. I told her you were busy, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer,” he says before closing my door with an apologetic expression.
I blow out a breath to rid myself of the lingering annoyance and sit back at my desk. No one says no to Turgenev’s daughter. Certainly not my assistant, who’s considered way beneath her in the power hierarchy. She’s her daddy’s princess, and a spoiled one at that, one who’s used to getting her way.
For once, though, Dania Turgeneva isn’t getting what she wants. She’s not getting my money or my status, and she’s taking it surprisingly well. Then again, I’ve been very clear about my intentions. Perhaps she finally understands that there’s only one woman destined to be Mrs. Volkova.
20
Kate
The same team of women arrive on the afternoon of the gala to help me get dressed for the event. Thankfully, this time, Lena isn’t present.
I’m ready half an hour before the time Alex said we needed to leave. A guard escorts the women downstairs while I add the finishing touches by dabbing on perfume and putting on the ruby earrings Alex gave me in New York.
By six, I go in search of Alex, who dressed in one of the other rooms to give the women space in his. The hallway I pass through is quiet, not a sound coming from behind any of the closed doors. Not knowing which suite he’s using, I make my way to the foyer.
Since the incident with my mom, the atmosphere between us is still strained. Neither of us has brought up the argument again. We’re maintaining peace by avoiding the subject. Alex came home late the following night, and we had dinner as if nothing happened. Later, in bed, we made love like he hasn’t shattered my life and like the world around us isn’t falling apart.
As I near the end of the hallway, voices drift from downstairs. I pause on top of the landing. Alex and a man I haven’t met are conversing in the foyer. Alex is wearing dark suit pants and a fitted waistcoat over a white shirt. With his dark brown hair brushed back and his shoulders impossibly broad, he looks dangerously handsome. Intimidatingly so. The thin, short frame of the man facing him only aids in emphasizing Alex’s formidable strength and size.
I haven’t made a sound, but Alex pauses mid-sentence and glances toward where I stand. The blue of his eyes heats a shade as he trails his gaze over me.
“Katerina,” he says in a deep voice, pronouncing my name with that Russian accent that always makes it sound exotic. “I’d like you to meet someone.”
I pay closer attention to his guest. Like Alex, the man is dressed in a dark suit, but a less formal one. He’s holding a metal case the size of a briefcase in one hand and a cane in the other.
Alex leaves the man standing there and climbs up the stairs to meet me at the top. Catching me off guard, he lowers his head and plants a kiss on the shell of my ear. It’s a tender but possessive kiss, one that unmistakably stakes a claim.
“You look beautiful,” he says softly enough only for me to hear.
It’s not so much the words as the admiration in his eyes that gives weight to the compliment.
He offers me his arm. When I’ve placed my palm on his forearm, he carefully leads me down the stairs. I’m used to walking in heels, but I appreciate the gentlemanly gesture.
“This is Mr. Krupnov,” he says when we reach the bottom of the staircase.
The man puts the case down and rushes over as fast as his cane allows. Extending a hand, he says in a heavily accented English, “A p-pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I say, accepting his handshake.
Placing a hand over mine where it rests on his arm, Alex smiles down at me. “Shall we go to the lounge? I have a surprise for you.”
I look between Alex and the man, a tinge of nerves sparking in my stomach. Under normal circumstances, I like surprises, but with the situation we’ve found ourselves in, I’ve learned to be cautious. I don’t like the disadvantage of being in the dark.
“Please follow me,” Alex says to Mr. Krupnov, leading the way to the lounge.
Once inside, we stand stiffly in the center of the room while the man leans his cane against the sofa and places the case on the coffee table. When he clips it open, my breath catches. Rows of rings set with gemstones of all the colors of the rainbow fill the case. The designs range from elaborately bulky to plainly elegant.
“Choose one,” Alex says, motioning at the box.
The craftsmanship of the rings is exquisite. I don’t doubt each one costs a fortune. Of course, Alex can easily afford the whole case of rings. What bothers me isn’t the price of the gift he’s proposing but the reason for it. I’ve learned that Alex never does anything without a careful calculation.
“It’s not my birthday,” I say.
Alex gives me a crooked smile. “I’m well aware.”
“Then why?”
He raises a brow. “Do I need a reason?”
I study his face, but his expression gives away nothing.
“I c-couldn’t help but notice your earrings,” Mr. Krupnov says with a wink. “May I suggest the ruby ring?” He picks up a golden ring with a big ruby in the center and smaller ones surrounding it. “This o-one is a classic design. Q-quite timeless.”
“Try it on,” Alex says.
When I don’t move, Alex snatches the ring from Mr. Krupnov’s palm and takes my hand. Holding my gaze, he slips it over my ring finger.
I look down. Wow. The somewhat old-fashioned design transforms on my hand, the tier of rubies taking on a three-dimensional effect as the gemstones catch the light and come to life as if each of them has a heartbeat.
Alex twists the ring to test the fit. “It’s a little loose.”
“T-that’s not a problem.” Mr. Krupnov takes a finger gauge set from his pocket. “I c-can easily adjust the band.” He gives me a questioning look. “If t-this is the ring the lady likes? M-maybe you’d like to t-try some others?”