Page 44 of Scarlet Sins

“Why the fuck are you here? Again?”

“We don’t have time to waste. Now, I need a drink.” She starts to push past me.

I take her arm and she shakes me free. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“The kitchen. There’s more room in there, and I need to spread all this out.”

She marches off, swaying her hips, clearly not sure which way to go.

With a growl, I cut her off and lead her to the bright kitchen, where she sets herself up at the table, ordering Olgato make her some green tea. She pulls some from her bag and hands it to her. “This.”

Olga takes it. “We have green tea.”

“Mine is special. Imported from Japan.” Then she dismisses Olga and I make a coffee, watching as Stefina pours over her book, setting up swatches and cards and a list of places for flowers, cakes, caterers.

“I have some appointments to set up for the cakes. I want something spectacular. I’m thinking of a frosting that matches our outfits and also very Instagramable.”

I bite back a sigh. She’s way more interested in the wedding details than me. Personally, I’d rather she be as interested in the wedding and me on equal footing. Which is not at all.

“I don’t give a fuck,” I say.

“Nonsense. This is an us thing. And everyone knows the best vendors get snapped up early. With the cake, it’s not just the recipe but how they decorate it. And?—”

“As I said, I don’t give a fuck, Stefina. You don’t need to be here. And I’m busy. You’re free to make whatever wedding decisions you like. Down to the cake and menu and I’ll go along with it.”

Her eyes flash fire.

“And Demyan, I don’t think you have any interest in marrying me. I’m going to call Daddy!”

Fuck. Fuck.

What I want to do is tell her to fucking call her asshole father. But I don’t want to rock any boats until I have to.

I could call her out. She’s used to emotional blackmail, of pulling strings. So let her think she can do that… to a point. I’d rather have things smooth until they don’t need to than have her father double down. So I fucking aim for the facsimile of a smile.

“Stefina, I just don’t have the time or the inclination to spend every day planning the damned thing.”

She looks at me like I fucking slapped her.

“Do you really want my input? Because think about it carefully. I’d just rock up to the fucking town hall, get married that way. No dress, no wedding party, no cake, no nothing. Just a witness and the goddamn piece of paper. So. I’ll ask again. Do you want my input?”

“I want a big wedding. It’s what I demanded and I’m going to get. So if you think you can say things like that and you’ll get let off the hook or find a way out of this by running me off, think again. Because my father won’t stand for it. He’ll kill you if you fuck me over.”

The threat’s real and I’m about to say something to her when her eyes dart beyond me.

I turn.

Fuck again.

Alina and Erin and Sasha.

I don’t know what she heard and I’m not sure it matters because I know exactly how she feels about all this.

And they both stare at me. My sister and my woman.

Stefina’s gaze locks on Erin and in Russian, she mutters a classic insult. “She’s nothing but a car falling apart as it goes.” And then she adds one more word. “Suka.”

Bitch.

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