Deceitful Vows by Brook Wilder
Chapter 29
Paige
I stand there pigeon-toed, clutching the straps of my purse. One of my former neighbor’s beloved house cats escaped the apartment building and we found it an hour later, shaking under a city bench. It leaped into her arms and never left the house again. I remember laughing at the silly animal. But I get it now.
Before I can leave to meet Sonya, Andrei lines up his men in the foyer. They stand shoulder to shoulder as he marches in front of them, giving them strict orders to keep me safe and never lose sight of me.
“Lose her and don’t bother showing your face to me again.”
He glares at all of them in turn, and then he lifts his hand, dismissing them. Instantly, they rush in zigzags around the compound, checking guns, starting vehicles, and muttering into the earpieces.
Andrei narrows his gaze on me like a circling hawk scoping out a mouse before pecking my cheek. “Have fun, moya nevesta.”
I feel sick.
Two men march in front of me and two behind me as I exit the mansion. A stoic guard by the name of Oleg wraps his fingers around my upper arm and holds tight. I’m not getting away from this one. I don’t crack a smile as he marches me to the Rover. It’s odd sitting in the back of the Rover without Andrei pinning me to the seat. But I suppose I’ll manage.
“You will have fun today,” Oleg says, staring down on me from his seat. “And you won’t run.”
I have no idea what expression I have on my face as my stomach twists into a tangle.
Oleg leans over and pats my forearm in what might be a sign of pity. “Sonya is not like her brother,” he says. “Andrei is a serious man. He is a leader. He hides his joy. But Sonya is different; she shares her joy like sunshine.” He sits back and stretches out his legs. “You will have fun with Sonya.”
“You keep saying that like a threat,” I mumble, compressing my body in my seat.
His expression turns serious again. “Do not run, Paige Geraldovna. And do not throw Sonya’s kindness back in her face.”
I glare at him, expressing all the hostility I normally dump on Andrei. “You people kidnapped me. Remember? And forced me to marry your pakhan.”
Oleg looks forward and shakes his head. “This is a bad idea.”
I shift in my seat. “It was a bad idea from the start.”
“I have no idea why he wanted this one.” Oleg sighs deeply, then remembers who he is with. “I don’t say this to be disrespectful. But Andrei Vasilyevich has good instincts. If he says you are in danger, you should listen. Pay attention, Paige Geraldovna, to your surroundings. He is seeing something that none of us are.”
Oleg looks straight ahead as I shrink into my seat again. He’s right. Andrei always sees danger before it strikes. But what could I have done? The photos from that murderous wedding were erased. My camera was destroyed. So what if I witnessed it? Others did too. God, those poor people. It never made the news.
I clear my throat, and Oleg turns to look. “Is it because of the other wedding?”
“Perhaps.” He shrugs. “We were all there, and now, we live in danger.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, forgetting my own fear for a moment.
Oleg lowers his voice. “People have been attacked in places that were considered off-limits. Weddings are times of celebration, and to attack one is the worst offense. You should know that. I don’t know why you don’t know.”
“He told me that his business is not my concern,” I whisper.
“He’s wrong, Paige Geraldovna. The Bratva is your family now. Our concerns are yours, even if you don’t think so.”
“I have a family.” I tighten my grip on my purse. “A real one that I’m not allowed to see.”
“It is not to be cruel,” he explains. “It is for your protection and theirs. You know nothing of the Bratva.”
“No, how would I?” I ask defensively.
Oleg places his hands on his knees and takes a deep breath. “You are the queen on the chessboard. We are all your pawns. Your safety is foremost to us. If you or Andrei Vasilyevich take a hit, then it shows others we are weak. So, when you are careless, you put our safety at risk too. You may not want to be here, but think of the men protecting you. They have no choice either.”
I look down at my blue and tan sneakers for the rest of the ride. Oleg must have read my mind. I had planned to skip out on Sonya and find a ride back to my father’s house. But I had second thoughts while we were leaving the mansion. Now, knowing that my actions might hurt someone or worse, I don’t dare.
I just have to wait until I know no one will be blamed.
“Oleg?”
He looks as if he is far away in his thoughts when he turns toward me.
“Please call me Paige. There is no need to be so formal.”
He nods. “Only in private. Thank you, Paige.”
Oleg helps me out of the vehicle, which seems three feet off the ground. And it’s only then I notice the three other Rovers parked around us. I feel stupid dressed in jeans and a hoodie. Oleg places his finger under my chin and lifts it up like a parent does a child.
“Remember who you are now and what you represent.” He stares hard into my eyes.
“The queen on the chessboard,” I reply. “No need to remind me.”
The River Grill is one of the trendiest restaurants in Twin Rivers. In the past, I couldn’t afford a glass of water here, much less a whole meal. I keep my chin up and my eyes straight ahead as I’m escorted past the hostess by Oleg to a choice table in the back. Sonya is already here.
She smiles when she sees me, and I can’t help but smile back. In a way, she reminds me of Emma. They both have a natural sweetness that the world can’t steal away from them. My gaze travels over her luxe outfit. A nice silk dress and expensive leather shoes in shades of blue that highlight her eyes. I try hard to keep my shoulders back, but I feel completely out of place.
“Paige.” She air-kisses both my cheeks. “Thank you for coming.”
Be nice, Paige. Don’t tell her you didn’t have a choice.
“Thank you for inviting me, Sonya.”
“Something to drink?” she asks.
“Just water.” I have no intention of getting drunk and telling her everything about me, from the day I was born to my cheating ex-boyfriend.
Sonya is not put off and orders a bottle of wine for the table. She eyes Oleg, who stands watch by the bar.
“He looks so serious. Doesn’t he?” she whispers. “A Russian yum-yum from central casting with that square jaw and blond buzz cut. I used to have a huge crush on him. Well, still do. But I used to as well. Do you know he has a tattoo on his dick?”
I spit my water across the table. “What? No.”
“I’ve never seen it. Andrei would have a fit if I did. But I hear people talk about it.” She giggles. “Apparently it grows into a cobra.”
I wipe my chin, avoiding eye contact with everyone. “He seems like he can be a very sweet person if he wants to be.”
“He is nothing like my brother,” she sighs. “How did you two meet?”
I stare into her blue eyes and wonder if it’s a trick question. “We met at a wedding.”
She sighs sweetly and sips her wine. “How romantic. Did Andrei sweep you off your feet?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Thankfully, the waiter returns to the table to take our orders. He barely looks at us while Oleg glares at him.
Sonya leans in close, moving the arrangement of votives in crystal holders off to the side. “Andrei says you’re an outsider. I can tell.” Her voice is subdued, and I fidget in my seat. She grasps my wrists and squeezes gently. “It’s a good thing, Paige. Maybe Andrei will loosen up and work will not dominate his life every day he breathes.”
“I don’t know.” I give in and take a sip of the wine that was poured for me. “We’re married, but I just don’t know what to do.”
Sonya tosses her hair over her shoulder. “You do what we’re doing now. Bratva women socialize together. They keep the peace, so petty disagreements don’t end in a bloodbath. Wives are the power behind the throne. Some are benevolent, and others are power mad. You must help out the Bratva wives and children, especially those who have lost their men.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” I have also wondered if the social worker ever saw my family.
“Unfortunately, it happens more than people would like. There are dangers along with the rewards.”
The plates are placed on the table, cutting the conversation short. I glance around the restaurant, which has a nautical theme. Metal sculptures of fish swim overhead and blue and green glass balls are wrapped in fishing nets and hung like curtains. No one is paying attention to us except Oleg. And I begin to relax and enjoy my day out of the compound.
“I’ve never seen you before at the compound,” I pry a little. “Why is that?”
“Andrei’s father was Eva’s first and only husband, but definitely not my father.”
I place my fork down. “I’m sorry, Sonya. I didn’t want to pry, but I was curious.”
“You should know since we’re sisters by marriage.” Her countenance changes and her warmth fades momentarily. “Vasily was cruel to my mother … beyond cruel. Their marriage was miserable. She had no say, no respect, no freedom. He didn’t treat her like a wife or a partner. He treated her like an animal.” Anger burns in her eyes at the mention of Vasily. “He was the animal. She had a lover, which Vasily never knew about until she became pregnant with me.”
“What happened? What did he do?” I ask, hooked on her words.
“Eva said she went away until I was born,” she replies. “She convinced him the baby was his. And then she lied, saying she had a miscarriage. Vasily had no interest in her issues until he started to hear rumors about being a cuckold. And that’s when he did the math.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“There were only two times that he ever touches her in their marriage.” Sonya’s gaze meets mine, and there’s no mistaking the hatred in them. “When he rapes her, and when he beats her.”
“I’m sorry.” I reach for her hand. “I’m sorry I brought back those memories. I should’ve minded my own business.”
“You should know,” Sonya insists. “The only regret I have is that I don’t know who my father is. Mama won’t talk about him. She still won’t.”
I have other questions, but I keep my mouth busy with a forkful of food. We eat in silence as I dig into my fish tacos and Sonya nibbles on her pasta salad.
“We should go shopping,” she says rather suddenly. “So you can pick out some clothes you like.”
I notice her eyeing my outfit, which is neither trendy nor ironic. “I don’t shop much. My dad’s a single parent, and we never had money to blow on new clothes. So I never really know what to get.”
She puts down her fork. “That’s fantastic. Not you being broke and your dad. But I can help you pick out clothes.” She clasps her hands together. “We can bond over shopping.”
Excited by something I think of as a chore, Sonya motions for the check while her eyes search for Oleg. We leave the restaurant arm in arm with our security trailing behind us, and every once in a while, I swear I can see the slightest smile on Oleg’s face whenever I catch him looking at Sonya.
***
The Rover idles in front of an ornate metal and glass door in the middle of a swank block. The Greenwich section of Twin Rivers is so rich it is too expensive to even drive. I laugh at the number of jeeps with blackout windows parked along the street.
“Is this where all the Bratva women buy their dresses?” I joke.
“Yes,” replies Sonya. “Here and at the LeTon Atelier on Sixth. But I prefer Naomi’s shop.”
I decide not to make any more jokes about the Bratvalife.
Sonya presses an intercom, and a woman pleasantly asks if she has an appointment. “Hi, Naomi! It’s me, Sonya.” The imposing door immediately buzzes open, and a large doorman in a uniform opens it, ushering us in.
A blonde with upswept hair rushes toward us. “Sonya. Kiss, kiss,” she says. They air hug, barely touching one another as they greet each other with a warmth that a person typically shows a best friend. “It is so good to see you.” The woman’s gaze flutters over to me as if she’s about to have a stroke. “And who is this?”
A smirking Sonya pulls me to her side. “This is my new friend, Mrs. Paige Barinov.”
Naomi’s eyes bug out so far. I think we’re going to have to call the paramedics. She approaches me with careful steps, as if she doesn’t want to scare me off. “Welcome, Mrs. Barinov.” She grabs my hand in hers. “Welcome to Naomi’s.”
“Please call me Paige.” I smile.
“Of course. I will be very discreet.” Naomi rushes off toward a room and literally chases two women out of it. She walks briskly over and, practically bowing to the ground, she ushers us in. She waits until we are seated on a teal loveseat. “Coffee? Or would you prefer something else?”
Sonya tosses down her bag. “Domaine Laroche and something to nibble on. Thank you, Naomi.”
When she leaves, I talk. “Is this the dressing room?”
Sonya nods and stares at her nails. It could be a bedroom, with botanical print wallpaper and velvet everything except the Persian rug on the floor. The mirrors are full length and framed in gold molding. I can’t figure out why there is a sink in here.
“So, how do we see the dresses?” I ask.
“They have models on staff,” Sonya replies, reaching for her glass of wine as it’s served. “Or we can request our favorite designers.” She hands me a glass. “You would look good in Chanel, but not that pink tweed shit. The edgier stuff with pearls, leather, and thigh-high boots. You have a very fem figure.”
I look for a stall with a curtain. “Do we try it on?”
Sonya practically spits out her wine. “Heavens, no. They send it to the house with a seamstress.”
A rack of dresses is wheeled in, and I remember the first wedding gown. My skin tingles as my fingers strum through the clothes, and I stop on a sheer turquoise top.
“I like this one.” I stare at the tiny pleats that are meant to obscure the nipples.
“Good choice.” Sonya holds it up. “So will Andrei.”
Sonya picks out ten more outfits from head to toe and makes arrangements for them to be sent to Andrei’s home. Correction. My home. While she sits at a desk with Naomi, paying the bill with Andrei’s card, I wander over to a mannequin in front of a mirror on the main floor. I admire the floor-length dress in a floral print that I would have picked over the flashy suits and tight pencil skirts. I reach for the dress and admire the soft fabric.
Something is off. I feel eyes on the back of my head. Nonsense, it’s probably Oleg. I won’t run, or at least, I won’t do it today. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as a chill clutches my spine.
I look up at my reflection in the mirror, and behind me, I see her. A dark-haired woman stares at me from the doorway of a private dressing room. Her hand grips the doorframe, and her long silver nails dig into the wood. She would be beautiful if she didn’t look ready to kill someone.
And her eyes are trained on me.
I let go of the dress and turn slowly. We make eye contact. No one would dare to openly look at a stranger like that. It’s too rude. I confront her with a stern look, but she doesn’t look away. A sense of dread runs through me, and my body freezes in place as if she’s turned me into stone. People will stare, but not like that.
It’s the unmistakable hate lurking behind her gaze—as if I should know why she hates me.
I look over toward Sonya, who is standing up to leave, and walk toward her. I glance over my shoulder, but the other woman is gone. The door is still open, but she isn’t there anymore.
In fact, I don’t see her anywhere.
Was Andrei right? Am I in danger?
