Page 144 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

I can’t help grinning back. “It’s for the grand opening of the hotel. I don’t know who all is going to be there. It will probably be a lot of older people. Boring music. Stuffy conversation. If you don’t want to go—”

“I want to go.” Elise reaches for the dress and then seems to think better of it, pulling her hands back to eye her dirty fingernails. “I should shower. And… can you do my hair?”

If my heart nearly stopped seeing the dress, it practically explodes when Elise asks me to help her get ready.

“Will I—Yes!” I say a bit too enthusiastically. I try again, a little more suave. “Of course. Yes. I’d love to.” Elise’s eyebrow quirks up, and I shrug. “Sorry, but I’ve been dying to French braid your hair since I picked you up. It was so short the last time I saw you.”

When we were kids, hiding out in our room to avoid Mom, I liked to braid Elise’s hair into intricate patterns. But a year before I left, she cut it up above her ears.

“Mom was talking about selling it,” she says quietly. “Someone said they had a friend who made wigs. She could’ve gotten three hundred dollars for my hair.”

I clap a hand over my mouth. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” she says. “So I cut it myself at school so she couldn’t.”

I have no idea why I am still able to be surprised about the lengths our mom would go to to get some extra cash. It puts a familiar nauseating dread in the pit of my stomach.

But I refuse to let our mom ruin this night. She’s ruined enough already.

I shake my head and give her a smile. “Well, I’d love to do your hair tonight. It’s definitely long enough now. Go shower and then we can start getting ready.”

Elise can’t bite back her grin. She starts to head to her room, but turns back one last time. “For what it’s worth, Belle… I think Nikolai is nice.”

It’s not exactly effusive praise, but by Elise’s standards, she basically erected a statue to Nikolai and had a national holiday named for him.

There’s so much I could say. So much I could tell her about what I know of him, what he’s done, what he might still do.

But in the face of this—giving my sister and me something to bond over, something to talk about—nothing else Nikolai has done seems to matter.

33

NIKOLAI

“We’re so happy to have you here with us, Mr. Zhukova,” Margrét says. “We didn’t know whether you’d be joining us or not, so there is nothing planned, but if you’d like to make a speech or—”

“No.” I gently wave away the hotel manager’s idea. “Don’t change anything on my account. I just wanted an excuse to dress up.”

Margrét smiles and looks over my attire, clearly appreciating me in formal wear. Her face flushes and then she excuses herself to get a drink.

In another universe, I’d follow Margrét to the bar and start laying the groundwork for what could be a pleasant mid-party fuck.

But what I said was a lie. All I really wanted was an excuse to dress Belle up. To let her and Elise put on nice clothes and escape into the fairytale they both seem to think is out of reach.

Then I turn around just as Belle and Elise walk into the party… and I realize my motivations aren't nearly so selfless.

I shouldn’t be surprised. They never are.

Belle looks as good as I imagined. Better, in fact. She is a goddess in gold and maroon. The dress hugs her curves and the long train trails behind her like she’s royalty. People have to hustle to get out of her way, but only because they're so transfixed by the sight of her that they stop walking in the first place.

She spots me and smiles nervously. Her hair is pulled back into a loose knot at the base of her neck, wavy tendrils hanging over her shoulder.

When I approach, I have to fight to keep my hands to myself.

“You both look incredible,” I say with a small bow.

Belle’s face flushes with pleasure, but she turns to her sister to fiddle with her hairpins. “Doesn’t she? She’s gorgeous.”

Elise swats her sister’s hand away, but she’s happy, too. She’s holding her chin a little higher today. As she should. Her blue dress offsets her pale skin and brings out the red undertones in her hair. She’s practically glowing.

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