by Bethany-Kris
“What’s wrong?”
When his blue eyes glanced down again, the brief emotion she witnessed was all but gone. “Nothing, baby.”
“Anton, did something happen?”
A tick in his jaw caught her notice before he shook his head. “Nope. Nothing.”
“So everything is good, then?”
“Yeah, of course. Why?”
He was deflecting. Now, Viviana was positive there was something wrong.
“I just thought—”
“Boss!”
“Where’s the prince of the hour?”
Anton’s head turned at the voices calling from behind them, but she didn’t miss the frown that pulled at his mouth. With a nod over his shoulder, his gaze was back on her with a soft smile. His thumbs stroked the apples of her cheeks as he held her face up to meet his eyes. Viviana found herself forgetting what she was worried about all of the sudden.
“I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t go too far. Maybe we’ll sneak out of here sooner if that’s who I think it is.”
Just the fact that he didn’t want her to join him in greeting whoever was demanding his presence told Viviana it was likely a conversation he didn’t want her to be a part of. Or one she probably wouldn’t want to hear. Either way, it didn’t offend her. She hadn’t been given much of a chance to sit down and relax since they’d arrived at the club and her feet were already sore.
“Sure. I’m in need of a refill, so go say hello … or yeah.”
“No business,” Anton said, turning quieter. “I made it clear I wasn’t talking business tonight with anybody.”
Viviana shrugged, leaning up to kiss his jaw. “Whatever, Boss. Go.”
With another squeeze of his hands and a warning under his breath that had her body spiking up to a fever again, Anton was gone. At the bar, Jen was waiting for Viviana with a glass of ice water and a smirk. Viviana perched herself up on a stool, crossed her legs, and searched across the darkened room through the mass of people to see if she could find her lover.
When she couldn’t right away, she turned back to Jen.
“I was told to cut you off.”
“Wow, thanks. Wasn’t like it was me who was buying those drinks.”
“You don’t sign my pay check,” Jen joked.
“Ah, true that. He’s probably just worried.”
The older woman wiped the bar down as she asked, “Why?”
Viviana shrugged. “I drank a lot while I was in Canada. It was becoming more of a habit than a social thing. This is the first time I’ve really partied, or had the chance to, since being back.”
“It’s good he watches out, though, right?”
“Yeah, it is.”
And it was. Viviana didn’t mind a bit. After all, it had been her that morning who’d questioned his behavior with alcohol. It wasn’t all too surprising that he’d be keeping an eye out on her drinking, too, considering the fiasco her life had turned into back in Toronto. Sure it’d seemed great at the time, but now she could tell she’d been spiralling out of control, partying more than she studied. Like Anton had said, he’d been watching … somehow.
“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Jen muttered, her eyes narrowing on someone reaching over the bar at the other end. “Ugh, fucking guys thinking they own the place sometimes because Anton owns it.”
“Sure thing.”
Jen wasn’t gone but two seconds before a body dropped into the stool beside Viviana’s with an almost feline sort of grace. The shine of a red heel caught the glint of a light. It drew her gaze to the slender calve it rested on.
Pale, smooth legs were crossed as a clutch was tossed onto the bar top. A feminine sigh echoed. Viviana turned to stare into ice-blue eyes that all but glared back. Full, painted red lips tugged into a sneer. The woman was beautiful, no doubt about it. Plenty of curves from her hips to her waist, and a bust that filled out her short, red dress. With pixie-like features and blonde hair that fell halfway down her back in perfect waves, she oozed self-confidence and sexuality.
Still, the last thing Viviana felt in her presence was insecure. She didn’t know the girl from a hole in the ground. However, what she did feel was the burning resentment behind the stare. The woman’s first words sure didn’t help, either.
“Well, if it isn’t the Russian whore.”
Chapter Sixteen
The light Russian accent to the woman’s voice didn’t escape Viviana’s notice. The woman reached out with her hand, brushing over the engagement ring on Viviana’s finger.
Instantly, Viviana jerked her hand away as if she’d been burned. Many people had looked at the ring, their gazes appreciative when they asked how exactly Anton proposed, but not one had openly touched it like this woman just had.
“Pretty. But I bet I could have gotten a much nicer one out of that man. Is that all it took for you to roll over in his sheets and moan his name, girl? Just a pretty ring, a fast car, and a big house?”
Viviana felt air lodge in her throat, but the woman didn’t give her a chance to reply before she continued. “I mean, they all know you’re practically bought and paid for as it is,” she said with an indifferent wave to the crowd behind them. “But I want to know what it took for you to put on a show like you just did out there on the dance floor. He was holding you tight, making it look awfully sweet … like he actually fucking cared. And he’s so good at pretending, you know? Men like that, they can’t be caught. They don’t love.”
“That wasn’t a show.” Viviana’s voice had finally came back, but it sounded a lot quieter than she wanted it to. “Far from it.”
“Sure,” the other woman drawled with sarcasm dripping thickly over every word. “I’m Tatiana, by the way.”
Viviana scoffed. “And I don’t care.”
Placing her glass back on the bar before she left the woman’s space, she heard Tatiana’s soft, vague reply. “Oh, you will.”
“Listen, girl,” Viviana muttered, forcing herself to breathe and be calm. The very last thing she or Anton needed was some kind of drama going down on his birthday with so many Bratva around. “I don’t know who the hell you are, or what exactly this stunt is meant to prove, but you don’t bother me. Not a single bit. Sure, you’re pretty, and I bet you spread your legs like a pro. Have you screwed around with him, is that it?”
Tatiana raised a brow. “I have. Many times.”
Viviana nodded; she’d assumed correctly, then. “Honestly, I don’t much care to sit here and have a chitchat with some used up, back alley former fuck of my fiancé’s. Because I’d be the one to bet that’s just about all you’re good for, and that’s why he hasn’t come calling back. Don’t take offense, he’s just got someone much more worthy warming up his bed. But, oh, wait … Anton didn’t actually share his bed before me, yeah?”
The anger that blazed in steel-blue eyes had Viviana smirking. “Right … that’s it, isn’t it? Couldn’t resist checking out who got what you didn’t?”
“Wrong. One: my daddy is just as good as yours, girl, making me just as worthy. And two: you’re pretty, but you’re sure not me.”
Viviana’s fingers curled into fists at her sides as she stood gracefully from the stool. There wasn’t any way on earth she was about to let some flighty twit from Anton’s past ruin her night. For a brief moment, she searched the crowd of people for him again, but like he had warned, the club’s doors were now opened to the public and in just a matter of minutes, it seemed like the floors were packed full.
“He’s busy,” Tatiana said, drawing Viviana’s attention again. Those red lips curved with a nasty smile. “Having a moment with my father, I believe. Friendly Pakhans are rare, but our families have good history. Their territories are very close and business tends to intermingle.”
Shit. That didn’t help Viviana at all. Dread climbed up her spine with punishing steps.
“Mmhmm, been friendly for years,” Tatiana continued, turning on her stool to face the crowd in one fluid movement. “I nearly had
him, too … nearly. We were quite young then, though.”
“Shut up,” Viviana spat through clenched teeth.
The woman laughed sharply. “I suppose you could say we grew up together. When that grandfather of his was having troubles with whatever nonsense, Anton was spending time at my family’s estate. Damn, didn’t he grow up good, huh?” The taste of bile saturated Viviana’s mouth. She refused to even look at the woman. “He didn’t want you then, Viviana. In fact, he didn’t want you at all.”
Ouch. Something painful sliced into her heart with wrecking force.
“It’s Vine. To you, whoever the fuck you are, it’s just Vine.”
“We’d have been a much better match. Powerful, too. He knew it when he was seventeen, but someone didn’t quite agree. Nearly had him,” she repeated a little more vehemently. “Anton didn’t want some pretty Italian pussy waking him up in the mornings and sucking his cock at night. No, he wanted a Russian girl. Someone who spoke his mother tongue and bled the blood of the Bratva. Of course, he didn’t know about you, then … not really.”
Viviana felt her lips quirk into a condescending smirk. “Yet look who he chose, hmm?”
There was a brief silence before Tatiana chirped out a high laugh.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
There wasn’t a thing about their conversation—if you could call it that—that was funny.
“You don’t know?”
Viviana exhaled through her nose, turning on her heel to stare with open hatred. “What are you going on about?”
“You don’t know!”
“Again, what—”
“I didn’t believe it, you know? When my father told me why the marriage had been arranged all those years ago, I just couldn’t believe it. Such a stupid mistake for a woman of your mother’s status to make, and with a Russian mob boss no less. She was lucky her husband didn’t put a bullet through her fucking brain. And Anton … my God, he loved Nicoli so much it wasn’t such a big shock to see him following along with whatever plans he made. But I was so sure you would have known … I thought they must have told you …”
Viviana’s heart was pounding, blood rushing her ears. Nothing the woman said made much sense, but that dreadful feeling was back with a vengeance, eating away what patience and rationale she had left.
“Oh my God,” Tatiana said again though her tinkling bouts of sardonic laughter. “It makes so much sense, now. It isn’t any wonder why you think he loves you. How could you possibly think any different, you stupid, ridiculous girl? You don’t even know why he’s marrying you.”
Yeah, all of the patience and calm she had remaining left her body in one fell swoop. Viviana turned to grab her own clutch off the bar top before making her move to leave. Tatiana’s painful grip to her wrist stopped the desire up short.
A harsh exhale shuddered from Viviana’s lungs as she stared at the hand on her body. “Remove your goddamn hand before I cut it off, Tatiana.”
“You really don’t know …”
Something a little softer had colored the woman’s tone, like she may have felt badly. Viviana wasn’t having it.
“I said—”
Tatiana’s fingers squeezed harder, her nails cutting into Viviana’s skin with enough force to make her bleed, but she refused to flinch or show proof of the pain the woman was causing her. For a split second, her brown eyes met steel-blue, a fire raging behind both women’s orbs as they openly glared.
Pretty, yes, it was no wonder Tatiana caught Anton’s eye. She might have had the looks, money, and father to back her up, but so did Viviana, and not once did she feel the least bit frightened or unworthy standing next to the man she wanted to marry.
“Let me go.”
“Jersey Girl … hey!”
Oh, for fuck sakes. She was from Jersey? Viviana never had any luck making friends from Jersey. No wonder they were like oil and water … or better yet, gasoline and fire.
Boom.
Jen’s cheery voice, though Viviana was sure she heard the tension hidden in there as well, had Tatiana letting her death grip go. “You shouldn’t be here, chica. You know what the boss said the last time you swayed your pretty ass up in here.”
“Jen.” A radiant smile curved her red lips, but it wasn’t meant to be sweet. “Daddy came to wish Anton a happy birthday, and insisted I come along to meet the soon-to-be wife. We were just getting acquainted, right, Viviana?”
“It’s Vine,” Viviana spat.
Jen sucked air through her teeth, scowling. “Okay, so Sergei was your ticket in, and I’m your cue to get gone. If Anton sees you in here, he’ll have a righteous fit. It’s his birthday; you really want to ruin this party they threw for him by being a jealous bitch again?”
“Ouch,” Tatiana said, pouting with wide eyes. “And I thought we were friends.”
“Yeah, like a snake with a mouse, honey. Now, out.”
Viviana assumed Jen had the situation handled, so she chose that moment to make herself scarce without bashing the blonde’s teeth in. Once again, Tatiana wasn’t having it because her fingers curled into the side of Viviana’s black dress and pulled roughly to stop her from leaving.
She’d taken just about all she could. Viviana swung around and hit the arm holding her with an opened palm, smacking it away from her frame with a painful slap. Jen made a noise behind the bar and jogged to the partition where she could get out from behind the space keeping her confined.
“If you touch me one more time, I will ruin your face.”
Tatiana not only looked surprised, but just a tad bit frightened as well. It was an honest threat, and one Viviana wasn’t afraid to carry out. The warning in her tone said it all. Tatiana wouldn’t be the first woman she laid out, and she probably wouldn’t be the last, either.
“Let’s be clear on this. Our fathers might be bad fucking men, but I bet there was one hell of a difference between mine and yours. You’re nothing more than a Bratva child. I’m a principessa of La Cosa Nostra and he raised me like one, too. He didn’t keep me coveted on a shelf and hiding in the dark. No, I was taught how to bat my lashes at the same time I learned how to wield a knife.”
Viviana took a measured step forward, making Tatiana draw back closer to the bar. “And did you know, Jersey … just a single slice on your pretty thigh at the right spot, depth, and length would have you bleeding out to the floor before anyone even had the time, thought, or care to call an ambulance? Because I sure do.”
“You would—”
“You’re not in Jersey anymore, honey,” Jen said quietly, her voice threatening. She’d come to stand behind Viviana, blocking the view of anyone behind them. “You’re in Brighton Beach. This is Anton’s territory, and this pretty thing here, she’s the only thing he gives a shit about now. She’s got one hell of a man backing her up, unlike you. My one and only suggestion is that you get off that barstool and leave, right now.”
Viviana tilted her head upwards, looking down on the blonde with revulsion when she murmured, “Don’t come back here, Tatiana. If you do, I won’t be so forgiving. And for the record, if you’re going to insult me, the least you could do is get it right.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s not the Russian whore, it’s the Russian’s whore.”
That snide smile crossed the woman’s red lips once more. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Brooklyn. I said it right, you just haven’t figured it out yet.”
• • •
A finger tapped on Anton’s shoulder forcefully.
“Boss, we gotta problem. A big one.”
Anton tried to ignore Rory’s voice behind him as he continued to chat with Sergei. It wasn’t that he liked the man or wanted to converse with him because in all honesty, he didn’t, but a Pakhan was a Pakhan in the Bratva world and Anton had to be appropriately respectful or it’d lead to nowhere good.
“Boss.”
The word was all but hissed.
“Rory, shut up,�
�� Anton warned quietly, not even glancing back, “and go find my girl.”
“You’re already shipping from Africa,” Sergei muttered, dropping his glass down to the table. “Diamonds aren’t any different, boy.”
Anton fought the urge to roll his eyes before he banged his head on the table repeatedly. It didn’t matter how many times the discussion was had, no one got the point. There were some things Anton simply didn’t want to put his hands into. Human trafficking was one, for obvious and moral reasons, and diamonds was another route he didn’t want to take.
Personally, he did pretty fucking good with his guns and narcotics in the trafficking department. A lot of the time, it kept him under a lower profile because he wasn’t so big of a fish on the fed’s lists.
“Boss,” Rory whispered again.
Anton sighed. “I said—”
“Diamonds,” Sergei repeated, tossing his arm over the back of the booth. “You’ve got good contacts over there, much better than I … we could work it out together, Anton. Nicoli would have been the first to jump on that ship.”
No, he wouldn’t have. There was a reason he wanted to stay away, after all. Anton wasn’t about to correct him.
“Okay, listen …” he said, leaning forward to grab the beer one of his waitresses had brought over, “I promised my girl no business tonight. I want to make good on that, so Monday I’ll get Ivan to set something up with just you and me. Neutral spots, no toes are being stomped on, and I get to go home tonight in lots of time to still save this evening from turning into a total shitfest. Sound like a plan?”
“But—”
“Boss!”
“Don’t your boys know when to back the fuck off?” Sergei growled, glaring up at the bull behind Anton. “Because that one needs a swift kick in the tee—”
“No, he doesn’t,” Anton interrupted darkly. “He just doesn’t answer to you. Now, I have to get going. Thanks for stopping by, and be sure to remind your daughter that she still isn’t welcomed anywhere near Brighton Beach.”
