“Can we just stay in here?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“No, but I don’t care.”
Despite his words,we had to leave his room eventually. We picked up Luka and Irina from her room, then ventured back outside.
Being a little more present than before only made the afternoon weirder. People were acting like this was any regular family gathering. Servers circulated with champagne flutes and canapés, and nobody seemed to care that Irina was scared for her life.
“So what do you do?” I asked, blinking at the gray man in a sharply cut suit, who had approached us to congratulate Victor on his fight.
“Cordelia.” Victor spoke my name like a warning.
“It’s quite alright, Vitya,” the man laughed, only to meet my puzzled stare, “that’s not a question people ask around here, honey.”
I didn’t even blink at his condescending tone, but Victor’s hand tightened around mine.
“Okay, fine, don’t tell me about your boring job then,” I replied, each word dripping with sarcasm. If he thought I’d beintimidated by vague insinuations and a condescending attitude, he could go straight to hell and meet up with my dad.
“I get the girls.” His voice had taken on a sharper edge. Someone had a bruised ego…
“What does that mean?” I asked and made sure to sound extra disinterested, fumbling with the bow pinned to my top.
He huffed and straightened his spine. “I get the girls for Piotr’s whore houses. I get them out of Russia and I get them here. The young ones, the pretty ones, are all mine. They make him good money.”
Despite my best efforts, I still flinched at his reply.The young ones.
“See, honey, not as boring as you think,” the man laughed before I had the chance to come up with a reply.
“I think she’s heard enough, Lev,” Victor said, voice dropped low.
“Besides, that’s not impressive. That’s just disgusting,” I said.
“You should teach your woman to show some respect for your family.”
“Sheis with me. Andyouaren’t family. Which means you should be the one showing her some respect.”
Lev grunted, clearly unhappy with that response. “Yeah? How about I respectfully offer her a job? She’s pretty enough.”
“Excuse me?” My voice sounded strangely distant in my own ears, and I clutched Victor’s hand tighter, trying to stay present, trying to listen.
“I said, you’re pretty enough, honey. My boys will fix that attitude in no time.”
Nausea swept through my gut. Not onmybehalf, but for all the girls - the pretty ones, the young ones - that this man was talking about. All the girls who might need their attitudesfixed.
Victor shifted beside me. “They brought out the cake.”
“What?” I rubbed a hand over my tight chest, blinking up at Victor who had half-turned to me.
“Look, they brought out the cake,” he repeated and nodded at the set-up behind me.
I followed his gaze to the decked-out table, where people were slowly taking their seats again. Smack in the middle of it was a huge, three-tiered cake, fit for a wedding, covered in fondant and gold leaf.
The gunshot tore through my eardrums first. The loud blast behind me made my breath hitch and my muscles cramp. Before my mind could even put together the sound and its meaning, Victor’s hands wrapped around the back of my neck and my waist. He pushed me forward without room to budge.
“Keep walking,” he murmured low and pressed a kiss against the back of my head.