Page 28 of Innocent Plus-Size Bride of the Bratva
I force myself to move, to blend into the crowd, to do what is expected. I greet the elders, accept a toast from Yelena’s father, shake hands with two of my uncles, each one testing for weakness in my grip. But the entire time, my eyes stray back to Talia, drawn by her laughter, by the line of her arm curled around another man’s, by the way she owns every inch of her skin.
Yelena drifts to my side, perfume thick and cloying. She murmurs something about the guest list, about new money, old enemies, all the politics I am supposed to care about. I answer in half-truths, never breaking my watch on the woman who is unravelling me from across the room.
She keeps the boy close, keeps the game going. She wants me to see. She wants me to burn.
Tonight, all my control is a brittle shell. The heat she stirs in me is dangerous, reckless. I want her more than I want the power that built this room. I want her in ways that would ruin us both.
As the waltz begins and the crowd begins to spin, I make a silent promise to myself. If she wants to play with fire, I will not look away. I will not let her win so easily.
Behind me, heels click sharp and steady across the marble, slicing through the waltz and laughter. I hear Yelena before I see her. A perfume cloud drifting over my shoulder, a gloved hand slipping around my elbow for the cameras. Her smile is flawless, rehearsed, but her eyes are sharpened to points. She sees everything. She always has.
“Such a beautiful night,” she says, her voice honey-sweet for the people watching. “Don’t you think, Adrian?”
I nod, not bothering to turn. “It is.”
She leans in, her whisper meant only for me. “You’re very distracted, tonight. I’d almost think you were jealous.” Her fingers dig in, just a fraction too hard, masked by her pose.
I look at her then. “Of whom?”
She follows my gaze across the ballroom, her eyes landing on Talia. She’s still laughing, still draped over my cousin’s assistant like she owns the moment. Yelena’s jaw tightens, her smile slipping at the edges.
“She’s bold,” she says quietly. “You let your pets off the leash, they bite. Or run.”
“She’s not a pet,” I reply, voice low and cold.
Yelena’s laughter is brittle. “You forget yourself, Adrian. Everyone in this room is watching. Including your family.” Her smile returns for the crowd, but her eyes never soften. “Try not to embarrass me. Or them.”
I shrug her off, just enough for her to notice, but not enough for the cameras. “Perhaps you should be more concerned with your own performance.”
Her lips thin. “You play a dangerous game with her. With all of us.”
I look back at Talia, heat rising again. “That’s what makes it interesting.”
Yelena’s eyes flash, furious and wounded. “Be careful. Some games you don’t win.”
She holds her smile, perfect for the world to see, but inside her gaze is full of venom.
Yelena’s smile does not falter for a second, but her grip tightens again, her fingernails pressing through the fabric of my jacket.
“You think I’m the problem, Adrian? You think she’ll save you from this life?”
I meet her eyes, letting my voice drop to a whisper meant for her alone. “I don’t need saving, Yelena. Least of all by you.”
She tilts her head, expression brittle and bright. “Then why are you letting yourself get so… sloppy? Do you really think no one notices?” She glances pointedly toward the elders gathered near the head table, then back to Talia, her lips twisting. “She’s not one of us. She never will be. And if you let her in, she will tear you apart.”
I keep my face still, but my patience is razor thin. “You should worry less about her and more about your own alliances.”
Yelena laughs, but it’s the wrong sound, glassy and brittle. “Oh, I always do. I protect what’s mine. Don’t forget that you’re included in that.”
I step back, loosening her hold. “I am no one’s property.”
She leans close, voice a hiss beneath the orchestra’s swell. “Then act like it. Because if you lose control, Adrian, you’ll take all of us down with you.”
Before I can reply, Miroslav appears at my side, eyes flicking from Yelena’s hand on my arm to the tension in my jaw.
“Adrian, can I have a word?” he asks quietly.
Good. I needed to speak with him anyway.
