Deceitful Vows (Marital Privileges #2)

44. Zoya

44

ZOYA

T here is no better fix for a broken ego than spoiling someone more defeated than you, but I don’t recommend indulging when you’re spending money you didn’t earn.

For how worked up I was when I left my apartment, I’m shocked to announce that my splurge was a little on the lenient side.

I can’t say the same for my guilt.

I spend thousands in mere minutes, and although it is already resulting in my best friend getting a taste of the lavish lifestyle she could live if she’d ever consider placing herself first, I still feel like trash.

I guess that’s expected.

Homewreckers aren’t known for their graciousness.

Also, since I’ve had plenty of time to contemplate during our flight across the country, I may have overreacted earlier. Andrik’s contract blatantly specified his wish for an heir. Why would it be worded like that if he already has a son? It makes no sense, but I’m out of time to deliberate further since I am begrudgingly following Nikita into the elevator of our hotel.

This is my first elevator ride since that fateful one weeks ago.

The elevator is surprisingly packed for the late hour, though void of anyone who shares the same blood as Andrik.

I scan every face— twice —just to be sure.

As I butt shoulders with the lady who hasn’t quit eyeballing me for the past seven hours, I slip on the mask I don’t plan to remove for a single second over the next four days.

This weekend isn’t about me or my stupid ideas of relationships. It is a chance to reacquaint myself with my sister and to make sure my best friend knows there’s more to life than endless bills and cruel medical diagnoses.

I plan to be honest, just not until I’m confident my confession won’t add more circles to the dark ones rimming Nikita’s eyes. Gigi was right. Nikita is one wayward step from burnout, so I need to do anything I can to ensure that doesn’t happen.

Nikita is the foundation of our family.

If she topples, we all topple.

After the numerous mistakes I’ve made over the past six weeks, that’s the last thing I need.

“What floor?” asks a woman hogging the elevator panel as if it is made of real gold.

“Shit,” Nikita mumbles as she digs into her pocket. “I didn’t check the room number the clerk wrote down.”

“The ninetieth floor,” announces an accented voice from the back of the pack. It is a mix of accents like my mother’s, but since it is extremely mannish, my panic remains stagnant.

Nikita can’t say the same. When the dark-haired gent I spotted earlier watching Nikita from the Mezzanine floor leans over her to select our floor, goose bumps break across her skin, and the hairs on her nape stand to attention.

I won’t tell you what the front of her body does, or you’ll no longer believe me when I tell you I have no interest in women.

I wondered earlier if he was the man who had her exiting our flight smelling like a hot hunk of man. Now I am certain.

Tension crackles between the suit-clad stranger and Nikita over the next thirty seconds. It is excruciating and proves that lust is the most potent emotion we own. No amount of muscle can stop two atoms destined to collide. Their collision could create a big bang of energy or fizzle before forcing the shards to move in opposite directions. The impact is inevitable. It is the outcome that scares people the most.

Curious to discover if the stranger is the cause of Nikita’s silence, I lean into her side and whisper, “He wants to fuck you.” My wording could be better. I just don’t have time to pussyfoot around. Our elevator is nearing our floor. I have only mere seconds to play with.

“He did.” I assume her tiredness has her muddling up her reply, but she proves otherwise when she adds, “But he doesn’t seem interested anymore.”

“Because…?” I sound lost. Rightfully so. I am. Nikita is a beautiful, brilliant woman. Any man would be proud to call her his. Unless…

I stop seeking a wedding ring on the stranger’s left hand when Nikita sighs heavily. “Because…” Even after an eternity of deliberation, she delivers the worst excuse I’ve ever heard. “He’s a patient’s son?”

“And that matters how?”

“Because he… I…”

My head rockets to the side so fast my neck muscles scream in disgust when a voice I’ll never forget sounds through my ears. It is more mature than the last time I heard it, though still extremely girlie.

“Zoya?” Worry burns my esophagus when Aleena stares at me in bewilderment. Her mouth is gaping like a fish out of water, and I can only hope the wetness in her eyes is from happiness. “You came?”

I nod, a better response above me.

After what feels like a lifetime, Aleena repeats, “You came!” Her voice is so loud it echoes throughout the elevator she dives into so she can wrap me up in a heart-thawing hug.

I’m not a crier. It takes a lot to make me get teary-eyed, but I’d be a liar if I said my eyes weren’t welling with wetness.

She seems happy that I’m here.

Relieved, even.

“I can’t believe you came. I didn’t think you would. With how late it is, I was certain you weren’t coming.” She inches back sooner than I’d like. Fortunately for me, it is only to extend an invitation. “We’re about to go out dancing. Do you want to come dancing with us?”

“Ah… Now? You want to go dancing now?”

Aleena isn’t the only one shocked by my motherly tone. She merely hides it better than Nikita. “You don’t want to go out? From the stories Mother shared, that is supposedly what you do every weekend.”

The sheer innocence in her eyes makes her words not sting as badly as the impact my body prepares for.

“Not every weekend… Just every second weekend,” I josh.

My joke sails straight over Aleena’s head. “Oh.” I wonder if she’s more like me than her outer shell portrays when she murmurs, “I must have gotten the dates mixed up.”

Her bloodshot eyes follow mine to my wrist when I check the time on my invisible watch. I don’t want to rain on her parade, but I would barely survive the creeps who come out this late at night, so I refuse to send my baby sister to the wolves unprepared.

“It is too late to go dancing now.” When disappointment is the first emotion she showcases, I talk faster. “But I heard rumors DJ Rourke was playing close by this weekend, so I was hopeful we could skip the blisters tonight to ensure we have plenty of gas left in the tank for his show on Saturday.”

“You have tickets to a DJ Rourke show?” My question doesn’t come from Aleena. It comes from a blonde wearing a bridesmaid sash on her left.

“Uh-huh,” I lie. It is only a temporary fib. I’ll sell a kidney for tickets if it keeps Aleena looking at me how she is now.

She’s grown up so much over the past three years. Her beauty is the perfect combination of sexy and cute. She had a more doll-like appearance on her eighteenth birthday, and the couple of pounds she’s added to her svelte frame makes the change-up even more noticeable.

She is so beautiful that I can’t help but admire her out loud.

“Do you really think so?” she asks, her voice almost a sob.

“Of course.” I back up my pledge with a brisk head bob. “You’ve always been the most beautiful sister. Everyone says it.”

“Because that’s what she told them to say.” It doesn’t take a genius to realize who she is referencing when she sneers “she.”

“Anything I ever say to you is because I believe it, Aleena.” I act as if I can’t feel the beady eyes of half a dozen co-riders on me. “It is Mother’s praise you need to be wary of. Okay?”

“Okay.” The shortness of her reply shouldn’t allow it to instigate so much heartache, but it does. It hurts like hell. “Though I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell her about this.” Her cheeks whiten as a confession spills from her lips. “I wasn’t meant to drink. But when I saw you entering the lobby, I got a little nervous, so I rushed back to my room for a nip of courage.”

“I think you had more than one nip.”

She grimaces before saying, “I think you are right.”

When she sways like a crunchy leaf on a deciduous tree at the end of fall, I band my arm around her waist and tug her into my side.

“Not just about how much I drank, but going out too. I don’t think we should go dancing. I don’t feel very well.” Aleena darts her eyes between Shevi and me. “Is this what drinking is meant to feel like?”

Before we can answer her, a burp almost knocks out the five remaining riders in the elevator. She perks back up while everyone around her goes green around the gills.

“Actually, I think I’m okay.”

When she stumbles out of the elevator on the top floor, I tighten my grip around her waist and then shoot my eyes to Nikita. She nods in agreement before I can utter a syllable and then helms our slow walk down the corridor to our room.

There’s no doubt the wetness in Aleena’s eyes is from sadness when she watches me pull an oversized college shirt out of the trash bag now housing my clothes. It isn’t designer like her clothes and shoes, and it is a stark reminder of how I survived my first two years without a home. Trash bags were once my blankets.

“The baggage handlers got a little dramatic with my luggage. It didn’t survive the flight.” When my reply pulls her lips a little higher on one side, I continue the honesty route I promised myself I wouldn’t start until after this weekend. “The good news is, I got a compensation check that will fund more than a new Frumpy Fran.”

“Frumpy Fran?” Since she is well past intoxicated, her words come out slurred. “You still have that?”

“Uh-huh.” A nod adds to my reply.

Frumpy Fran was what I called my gym bag during middle school. I can’t remember exactly how it started, but it was along the lines of my mother saying that I’d become frumpy if I didn’t increase my cardio from an hour a day to three.

“She was a good bag.”

“Looks like it,” Aleena murmurs through a yawn. Her tiredness is understandable when you realize she spent the past hour bouncing off the walls. “How many hours of cardio do you do per day now?”

I shadow her slow walk to the bedroom I had planned to be mine while answering, “Ah… none.”

“None!” Her voice is so loud Shevi and her other bridesmaid I’ve yet to be introduced to stir. They’re hogging one-half of the bed I’m endeavoring to get Aleena in. “How is that possible?”

When she remains staring, demanding an answer, I shrug. “Good genes?”

“Good genes, my ass. I have to work out twice a day to stay fit, for hours each session, and I still don’t look like that.” After thrusting her hand at me, she crawls across Shevi while mumbling under her breath. “No wonder he looked at you the way he did.”

“Who?” I ask, hopeful my daft act will save our exchange from nosediving toward awkward.

Topics of jealousy only ever veer a conversation one way—toward the negative. I’ve only had an hour of pleasantries. I’m not ready to flip the switch just yet.

Aleena’s response is so delayed that just when I think she’ll never answer me, she finally does. “The man on the mezzanine.”

It takes me a beat, but clarity slowly seeps through the cracks of my exhaustion. “He was looking at Nikita, not me.”

“ No …” Who knew one word could sound like an entire sentence? “Though we will return to how she knows Maksim Ivanov later.” She waits for me to nod in agreement before continuing. “I was talking about the man across from him. The one who got so riled up about your stare of another man, he almost blew a gasket.” I’m completely lost, so she strives to lessen my confusion. “Dark hair, cropped beard, dreamy eyes.”

Her description could describe a million men, but the increase in my pulse during her last feature announces exactly who my thoughts stray to.

I can’t deny this, and neither can Aleena.

“Who is he to you?”

“No one,” I lie before almost immediately backtracking on it. “If it is who I am thinking, what we had could barely be classified as a fling.”

“Had?” she double-checks, as if drinking makes you deaf.

I nod, not willing to lie with words again so soon after my last slip-up.

When she remains quiet, looking perplexed, I pull up the bedding until it sits under her chin like I did when she was little. Once she is as snug as a bug in a rug, I say, “Isn’t this weekend meant to be about you?” Her faint smile tugs on my heartstrings before she nods. “Then my idea of fucked-up relationships can wait. Your happiness is far more important.”

I tuck her in tight before tiptoeing out of the room like a herd of thunderous elephants could wake her from her drunken drift into sleep.

My world feels complete when my best friend eyeballs the closure of my bedroom door. It finally feels like the pieces of my demented puzzle are coming together as they should have years ago.

“That came many years later than expected, but followed a similar path to what I had envisioned.” After filling a glass with a double shot of vodka to settle a handful of nerves the last part of my exchange with Aleena instigated, I spin to face Nikita. “Are you sure you’re okay with them staying here with us?”

Her brows furrow as she slowly nods. “I’m sure.” She strays her eyes around a living room larger than my apartment. “Are you sure you didn’t mix up our key cards with Aleena’s? A destination bachelorette party screams old money, and only someone spending their daddy’s money could afford this room.”

“I’m reasonably sure Aleena’s room is on the floor she entered the elevator, but it’s hard to get anything out of her when she’s a blubbering idiot.”

Nikita sees straight through my ruse that Aleena was the only sentimental schmuck during our multiple conversations since our run-in in the elevator.

She smiles at me like it’s okay to be happy at Aleena’s delighted reaction to my arrival, before saying, “I told you, you had nothing to worry about.” After removing my security blanket as of late, she hugs me. “I’m sure she understands why you left.” Her words are muffled in my neck, but I get the gist of her reply by the amount of emotion she uses to deliver it. “And if she doesn’t, I’m not opposed to convincing her otherwise.”

“I love you, Kita.”

She inches back and makes an aww face. “I love you too.” Her hip bump forces me back half a step. “Enough I’m willing to share a bed with you.”

I worm my way out of her grip when she drags me toward the bedroom not occupied by my baby sister and her bridesmaids. I’m exhausted, but I am also too wired up to discover if my intuition is right to rest just yet.

Fortunately for me, I have the perfect way out.

“The last time we shared a bed, you humped my leg.”

Nikita’s mouth gapes open as disgust hardens her features. “That was you!”

I pfft her. “Whoever it was, girl-on-girl action isn’t on the agenda this weekend.”

With a plan devised in under a second, I head for my luggage and remove one of the many gifts I’ve purchased since I commenced working at Le Rogue. Mars is a vault of information when it comes to sex toys for novices. She helped me find the perfect gifts for Aleena and Nikita.

“And to make sure it stays off, I bought this for you.”

A box sails through the air that Nikita catches with the skills of a pro wide receiver.

She shakes it before asking, “What is it?”

“Sleeping pills.”

Her confused expression grows as she rattles the box again. “It doesn’t sound like sleeping pills.”

I roll my eyes before gesturing for her to open her gift.

She does so without pause for thought, and then her cheeks turn the color of beets.

“You bought me a sex toy?” She barely drags in half a breath before releasing it with a ton of words. “How the hell is this supposed to help me sleep?”

“You use it to orgasm yourself into the sexual coma the limp dick on the plane should have placed you in.” I move closer, needing less distance to ensure she doesn’t try to bullshit her way out of the truth. My lie detector machine doesn’t work well from afar. “When was the last time you got a solid eight hours?” I don’t give her the chance to lie. “In that little cabin at Kolomna. Demyan had a peanut for a cock but made up for what it lacked with a magic tongue and gifted fingers. I heard your screams from the lake, but I had to wait to tease you about it since you were passed out for eight… whole… hours.”

She acts as if a full night’s sleep isn’t the equivalent of a miracle for her. “I was zonked from the alcohol we drank.”

“You never drank when we went out. You didn’t want to face the repercussions of underage drinking with your father, and none of the boys we hung out with were stupid enough to give you alcohol. Not if they wanted to live.” This is the curse of too much alcohol. I speak before thinking. “I’m an asshole who doesn’t dese?—”

“You’re right,” Nikita interrupts, never one to start a fight. “I did wonder what his response would have been, which is exactly why I didn’t drink.” She holds up the clitoral vibrator. “But I still don’t see this helping.”

“You won’t know unless you try.” It sure worked for me. I slept over ten hours the night Andrik snuck into my bed in the middle of the night.

After recalling this room comes with a sofa bed, I remove my “luggage” from the only full sofa in the room before pulling out the made-up bed beneath.

“Look at that, a fancy-schmancy bed solely for me.”

Nikita huffs. “Remember those words when you’re whining about a sore back in the morning.” Her exhausted eyes drift between the sofa bed and me before she asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to share a bed with me?” She jingles the sex toy like it’s not the cause of the heat on her cheeks. “I could test this out in the bathroom. It seems to be my venue of choice of late.”

If I truly believed she’d give up the good stuff she withheld earlier, I wouldn’t leave this room for anyone or anything, but since I know she keeps her secrets as well-guarded as her stress levels, I reply, “I’m sure. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I reply as she begrudgingly makes her way into the main bedroom of the penthouse suite.

The door barely closes when I race out of our suite. I’m not hunting down Andrik with the hope he will toss me some scraps. It is merely to ensure my side is heard before his father makes out our arrangement is more sinister than it is.

“Is everything okay with your room?” asks the check-in clerk when she spots me milling in the foyer.

“Yeah. Our room is fine, thank you.”

She watches me suspiciously when I inch back until I can see most of the second-level mezzanine. I look in the direction where I spotted Maksim over an hour ago before recalling Aleena said the person watching me was opposite him.

My heart thuds wildly when the features Aleena mentioned earlier come into focus a second after peering behind me. A fit body encased in an expensive designer suit, dark locks long enough to run your fingers through them, and soul-piercing blue eyes make up an incredibly appealing package.

They just don’t belong to the man who causes my heart to beat in my ears as often as he forces guilt to weigh down my chest.

They belong to his little brother.