I was squeezed so tight, I could barely answer. I had to breathe one small mouthful at a time. I turned to tell her that I couldn’t possibly stay like this.
Then I saw myself in the mirror. My waist had shrunk down smaller than I would have thought possible—hell, with Konstantin’s big hands, he’d practically be able to span it. And my ass and boobs now flared out into an hourglass. “Oh wow,” I croaked.
Victoria grinned and pulled the dress up around me, buttoning it up the back and adjusting the ribbons. Then she went into my closet and unpacked a huge box of frilly underskirts and attached them, filling the skirt out to its full, four-foot-wide magnificence. She helped me with my make-up and managed to get my hair to lie in one long black waterfall, cascading over one shoulder and down my front. She’d only just finished when an impatient Konstantin knocked on the door. She scurried out. He strode in and—
It was the first time I’d seen him in a tuxedo since Boston, what felt like a lifetime ago. I’d forgotten just how good all that black looked on him, how it emphasized the size of those broad shoulders and strong chest, how the soft white dress shirt hugged his pecs and revealed the muscled flatness of his abs. It wasn’t just the clothes, it was the way he wore them, as if he’d been born to this world. Those brooding good looks, the confidence...he looked royal.
Then he saw me and—
He was always unshakeable. But for once, he just stopped.
“Is it…” I swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Do you—”
He marched across the room and grabbed my hands, lifting them. His lungs filled as he gazed down at me, his thumbs brushing over the backs of my fingers. “You—” His voice was tight with emotion and he fought to control it. “You look...exquisite.”
I felt something lift and soar inside my chest. My hands squeezed his and we stared at each other.
“Here,” he said, digging in his pocket. “I want you to wear this.”
He could have draped me in some huge, garish, diamond-encrusted thing worth hundreds of thousands of dollars—that’s what most rich Russian men would do. But instead, he opened a simple black jewelry box and handed me something much more valuable.
It was very old, the silver lovingly polished. A single, thin chain held a pendant in the shape of a ten-pointed star. The gem at the center was the same pale blue as Konstantin’s eyes, when he had one of those rare moments of softness.
Like now.
My heart was thumping. I knew there must be a story behind it, one that went deep into his past, but I didn’t dare ask. He came around me and started to fasten it on me. I dipped my head forward obediently and the slow dance of his warm fingers on the back of my neck as he pushed my hair out of the way and then fastened the necklace was the best thing I’d ever felt in my life.
“There,” he said, and pressed lightly on my shoulders to tell me to turn around. I turned to him, glancing down. The pendant was resting just above my breasts. I looked up and—
All the moments when he’d smoldered at me, all those times when it had nearly bubbled over into something real, something more than just sex...all of those moments paled into insignificance next to this. His eyes blazed blue, as if they were reflecting the gem. Then his gaze slid down to my lips and I could feel them throbbing and tingling, and then my gaze was sliding inexorably down to his lips and—
He tore his gaze away, dropped my hands, and shook his head savagely as if telling himself not to be silly. No, I thought desperately. Don’t! Keep going! Then I caught myself. It’s better, like this. Things were complicated enough, without us falling for each other. If that could even happen. I couldn’t have feelings for a man like him...could I? And according to Christina, he was incapable of feeling anything.
But if that was true, what was going on? Organizing this super-traditional ball, buying me the dress, giving me the necklace...that felt the opposite of cold and heartless. This whole thing...it meant something to him.
He took a deep breath, gathering his self-control, still not looking at me. “There are shoes in the box,” he told me.
Shoes. My mind was still whirling from the nearly-kiss so I didn’t pick up on it. I dug in the tissue paper in the box and found heels in the exact blue to match the dress. It was only when I bent over to slip them on that I remembered that he’d have bought them in Christina’s size. Crap! I wriggled my toes in. Yep: they were a full size too small. And I had nothing in my size that was remotely similar and anyway, he was standing right there. I’ll tell him it must be a mistake in the manufacturing. They say five, but they’re really a four. I looked up at him and opened my mouth to speak—
He was looking down at me with a look of almost childish anticipation. He really wanted to see me in the full outfit.
We hadn’t talked about the ambush the night before. But it had shaken both of us: the way Ralavich had looked at me had given me nightmares and Konstantin had been grim-faced and silent all morning. I knew now not to ask about his work, or try to ask about his past and what Ralavich had done that made him hate him so much. But there was one thing I could do to make him feel better. For some reason, he cared about this ball. Well, fine. If it was important to him, I’d make it perfect.
Taking a deep breath, I crammed my left foot into its shoe. I had to lever the unyielding leather with both hands to force it over my heel, but I did it. The right one felt even tighter. I had to cross my toes over each other and arch my foot, hook the heel in and then try to flatten things out, careful to keep smiling. Owww! Walking was going to be agony.
But when I saw the look on his face, it was worth it. Just for a second, he looked happy and warm. He could have been any normal guy who’d bought his girlfriend a dress and loved how she looked in it.
Then he pouted and looked away, brooding, trying to shut that happiness down. I was beginning to understand that happiness was weakness, in his eyes. My chest went tight. Konstantin….
I put my hand decisively on my hip, forming a crook he could hook his hand through. “Let’s go to the ball,” I said.
He glowered, eyeing my arm suspiciously.
And then he nodded, threaded his arm through it, and led me downstairs.
38
Hailey
AS WE DESCENDED the stairs, I started to wake up to the scale of this thing. As we passed one of the rear windows, I saw a Lamborghini cruise past, engine throbbing and snorting, to park next to a long line of other exotic sports cars. A sea of limousines were parked out front. The grounds had been transformed: tens of thousands of tiny white fairy lights had been strung from the trees, giving them a frosty, magical glow, and flaming torches lit the way to the door.
Instead of going down to the main hall, we veered off on the second floor and went down a back staircase, emerging from the big double doors that led into the ballroom. Grigory was there, and he nodded to us. “Everyone’s here,” he told Konstantin. And he put his hand on the doorknobs, ready to open them wide.
I suddenly realized what was about to happen. “Wait!” I said desperately.
Konstantin and Grigory looked round at me in confusion.
“I—” It’s probably not as bad as I think, I told myself. But I had to be sure. I let go of Konstantin’s arm, stooped and put my eye to the keyhole.
It was much worse than I thought.
The enormous ballroom had been lined with tables of food and a life-size ice sculpture of an angel stood at one end. A string quartet was sitting in one corner, instruments poised. And something like two hundred people were arranged in two thick crowds on either side of the room, the women all in huge, elaborate dresses like mine. That left an aisle down the center for...us.
We were the guests of honor. We were going to make a grand entrance.
I felt myself go pale. I was used to hiding. This was my worst nightmare.
“Christina?” asked Konstantin in puzzlement.
Now my face went red. I was scared and I was ashamed of being scared. I knew I should just fake the conf
idence: Christina would have lapped up the attention. But the idea of all those eyes on me made me want to curl up into a ball. And now Konstantin and Grigory were staring at me and wondering what was going on and—“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just—” I glanced helplessly up at Konstantin, trying to find a way to explain. They’re expecting someone glamorous, but they’re going to get me—
I saw him frown and I quickly looked away. I’m not surprised he’s annoyed, I’m ruining everything. I saw him nod to Grigory and the guard quickly made himself scarce. He’s going to tell me off, like on the rooftop.
But instead, one knuckle pressed gently under my chin and lifted my head to look at him. He was frowning even harder but, when I saw the glint of blue in his eyes, my fear melted away. He wasn’t annoyed because I was scared; he was furious because I doubted myself.
He spoke with the same quiet intensity that he used to strike fear into mob bosses and mayors. But for once, he was using that power for good. “You listen to me,” he ordered. “There isn’t a woman in that room, not one of them, who compares to you.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “Do you hear me?”
I nodded dumbly and my heart gave a huge, hot, thump-thump.
He squeezed my hand again. “Then let’s go in there.” And he threw open the doors.
Cheers and applause rose into a deafening roar, engulfing us. Konstantin led me gently forward and I managed to stumble along beside him, trying to remember to nod and smile and wave. What he’d said to me kept spinning around my head, giving me the confidence to walk down the length of that massive room, and the feel of his arm hooked through mine did the rest.
At last, we reached the far end and the applause died down. The string quartet started to play and everyone relaxed and started to mingle. I let out a silent sigh of relief. It felt like something had shifted inside me. I felt...different.
For the next hour, we moved around the floor. There were politicians and celebrities. There were industry leaders I recognized from Time magazine and notorious underworld figures I recognized from FBI files. And yet, whoever they were, however important meeting them was to expanding his empire, Konstantin never let me feel that they were more important than me. Even as he talked to them, his gaze kept flicking my way, as if he couldn’t take his eyes off me. My feet were in agony after the first twenty minutes, but I didn’t care, not when he looked at me like that.
He finished the conversation he was having and then led me decisively off across the room. My eyes widened when I saw what was in front of us. An area had been set aside for dancing, right next to the string quartet, and a handful of couples were gliding elegantly around in some sort of waltz. My first thought was God, no: I had no idea how to do it, and my feet felt like they were on fire. But then I thought about dancing with Konstantin. Being swept around the floor in his arms, that muscled body guiding me. That was worth any amount of pain and embarrassment. So as we stepped onto the floor, I turned to him with a nervous smile, lifting my hand to take his like the other couples were doing….
He looked at me blankly. My face fell. Then he realized what I’d been trying to do and his face fell. “I’m sorry, golub. I wasn’t—” He nodded towards the far side of the room. Through a set of open doors and across the hallway, I could see the poker room. Of course: he’d just been cutting across the dance floor on his way to make some deals. Even at a ball, he had to build his empire. He looked at the dancing couples around us. “I don’t...dance.”
I went scarlet. Of course he wasn’t taking you to dance! You idiot! Have you forgotten what he is? I nodded frantically. “I don’t dance either,” I told him. I didn’t want him to think I was disappointed. Because I wasn’t...right? Of course I wasn’t. I was relieved. “Go do some business,” I told him. And I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, the way Christina would have, and turned and hurried away as fast as my aching feet would allow.
As soon as they saw I was on my own, a gaggle of women surrounded me. They were all desperate to know about Konstantin: did he really kill any man who looked at me? Did he really sleep in a coffin? One of them grabbed my arm, her eyes huge. “Did he brand you with his mark?”
They reminded me of me, back when I used to watch him from a distance. I wanted to tell them that he was more than just a bunch of myths, that he was complex... damaged. That sometimes, I could see a whole different man underneath all the coldness. Or I thought I could.
“Excuse me,” said Konstantin from behind me. “I need to borrow her.”
I slowly turned around.
He held his hand out: would you like to dance?
I looked around us. Everyone was pretending not to look, but I could hear the amazed murmurs spreading through the room. Is Konstantin going to dance?
But he ignored the crowd. He ignored the group of whispering women and the men waiting for him in the poker room. There was only one thing that was important to him. That made my heart fill and lift, tugging me up so hard that my throbbing feet didn’t seem to even touch the floor. I took his hand and he led me past the other couples and over to the string quartet, just as they finished the current piece. He spoke to the cellist, a tiny woman with glasses who wasn’t much bigger than her instrument. “Can you play the slow movement of Elgar’s Cello Concerto?” he asked her.
The cellist blinked. The rest of the quartet stared at her, worried. Whatever that piece was, apparently it was a serious ask. Then the cellist nodded, sat up very straight, wriggled her shoulders, and flipped through her music with the air of someone refusing to back down from a challenge.
She began to play and it was beautiful, a haunting tune that made me think of the might of an army and loss...unspeakable loss. But it also lifted and carried you, lending you hope. Konstantin allowed me only a bar or two to get used to it and then we were off.
I’d barely ever danced with a partner before. My memory of dancing with men is awkwardly shuffling around a dance floor with one of the ushers at a friend’s wedding, trying not to step on each other’s toes. This was not like that. This was amazing.
He led. Head up, back ramrod straight, sweeping me around the room in great, bold arcs and looping swirls. The whole crowd had stopped to watch, but he wasn’t self-conscious at all. His eyes never left mine. His only focus was on making me happy.
And somehow, even though I had no idea what I was doing and my feet were screaming in pain, I managed to stay with him. He was so strong and he hauled me around with such confidence, I just had to give up control and go with it. It helped that I always knew exactly what he was going to do: he communicated in the way he held me: a press of that big hand on my back meant we were going forwards, a gentle squeeze on my hand meant we were breaking left...I forgot to be shy and scared, I forgot about all the people watching, and I just enjoyed it.
God, he looked so right, dancing like this. The music suited his looks, bold and beautiful, strong yet graceful. Noble, which seemed like a crazy term to put on a criminal. But it fitted.
We finally glided to a stop and the room erupted into applause. The cellist put down her bow and slumped, panting but grinning. Konstantin took both my hands in his and looked down at me.
“Thank you,” I said with feeling. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”
His eyes flickered blue for an instant, softening as he remembered. “My grandmother.” He glanced away for a second as if pushing the momentary weakness away, but when he looked at me again, the blue was still there. He’d enjoyed the dancing, despite himself. We both had. He pulled on my hands just a little bit and I stepped closer, looking up at him, my body molding to his. His eyes fell to my lips again and I felt my heart tighten and lift in anticipation.
And then he seemed to remember who he was, what our relationship was. He squeezed my hands one last time and then dropped them. “I should….” He nodded towards the poker room.
I nodded quickly. “Go.”
We walked off in opposite directions. I could feel the eyes of every woman there o
n me and heard a hundred whispered conversations. No one could believe what he’d just done, including me. How could he be so cold, so mercilessly evil, and yet do something so warm and romantic? I wanted to scream at them, see? He’s more than you think!
Then I saw Grigory through the crowd. I ducked back behind a cluster of politicians. I didn’t want to run into him on my own and have to talk my way out of another kiss. I’d managed to keep my distance over the last week, never letting myself be alone with him, but I could tell he was getting frustrated.
He wasn’t looking for me now, though. He was talking to one of the guests, a man I didn’t recognize. They were speaking in low tones, using the hubbub around them as cover. This was important, I could feel it.
I sidled closer, keeping my back towards Grigory. “You have it?” he asked the man. “I need to deliver it tonight.”
The other man had a thick, wiry beard and a heavy Russian accent. “I have it. You have my money?”
“I’ll get it. Meet me downstairs, in the parking garage, in five minutes,” said Grigory.
They headed off in different directions. I thought fast. Today was the 15th, the day the “tool” was meant to be delivered to the man I’d met at the shopping mall. Konstantin must have asked Grigory to take care of it, just as he’d asked Christina to deliver the money. Grigory was about to buy the “tool” and then deliver it. This was my only chance to find out what it was.
I raced for the stairs...and staggered, cursing. I’d forgotten about my feet. After an hour of walking around and then a bout of dancing, they were in agony. I wasn’t racing anywhere.
The Double Page 16
