Page 17 of Crimson Sin
“Then why is he here?” I probe.
“Because family obligations don't always align with personal preferences.”
“And his bodyguard?” I ask.
“Ivan Tarasov. Former Russian military. Viktor doesn't go anywhere without protection.”
“Protection from what?” The question slips out, low and tight in my throat.
“From the consequences of his choices.”
The answer is cryptic, but before I can press for clarification, we're interrupted by another guest. Then another. The evening continues in a blur of introductions, polite conversation, and careful navigation of social dynamics I don't fully understand.
But I'm learning. I'm watching how Daniil moves through these interactions, how he reveals nothing while appearing to share everything. I'm observing the way people respond to him with respect, wariness, and a bit of fear disguised as deference.
I notice how Viktor continues to watch me from across the room, his attention like a hand I can’t shrug off. Ivan remains close, scanning faces and exits. When Viktor moves, Ivan moves. When Viktor pauses, Ivan positions himself for optimal visibility and protection.
“Is Viktor always so...” I search for the right word.
“Predatory?” Daniil supplies.
“I was going to say inappropriate, but that works too.”
“He's testing you. Testing us. He wants to see how solid this marriage appears to be.”
“And if it doesn't appear solid?” I ask tentatively.
“Then he'll try to exploit the weakness,” Daniil replies.
The conversation is interrupted by a commotion near the entrance. A woman in an emerald dress has apparently spilled wine on herself, and several people rush to help. During the distraction, I notice Ivan's attention sharpen, his body tensing as he scans for potential threats in the confusion. It's a small thing, but it highlights his level of training and dedication.
“He's good at his job,” I observe, nodding toward Viktor's bodyguard.
“Ivan? Yes. Viktor may be many things, but he's not stupid when it comes to security.”
“What kind of enemies does someone like Viktor have?” I wonder aloud.
Daniil's expression darkens. “The kind that require Ivan's particular skill set.”
By the time we begin moving toward the guest suite, my feet ache in the beautiful shoes, and my cheeks hurt from smiling. The performance has been exhausting in ways I didn't expect. I've been evaluated, tested, and measured by people whose approval I'm not sure I want.
As we ascend the main staircase, I notice Viktor and Ivan in the foyer below. They're having a quiet conversation, Viktor'sgestures are animated while Ivan listens with stone-faced attention. Whatever they're discussing, it's serious enough to warrant that level of privacy.
As we reach the guest suite, I slow my pace.
“Is this really about appearances?” I press.
Daniil doesn't stop walking, but his voice lowers. “My inheritance depends on it. The terms of my mother's will are inflexible.”
“And you chose me,” I whisper softly.
“I chose the woman who showed up with fire in her eyes and spoke like the world could still be changed.”
My mouth goes dry. “You could have picked anyone.”
He finally turns, standing at the top of the landing, his eyes fixed on me. “But I didn't. I picked you.”
I'm not sure how to answer that. So, I keep walking.
