Deceitful Vows (Marital Privileges #2)

61. Zoya

61

ZOYA

“ A rabella?” One of the many gorgeous dresses Maksim has spoiled Nikita with swishes around her slim thighs when she twists to face me. Her daft expression is cute because of its rarity. “Are we in the right ballroom?”

A heated watch answers her question on my behalf. Maksim left our suite early to finalize some plans he’s been endeavoring to get off the ground for Nikita for the past few weeks. Nikita has been pining after him the entire time. Apparently twenty minutes is too long for soulmates to be apart.

I’d hate to see how she’d handle the weeks I’ve endured.

Although she lights up like a Christmas tree when she spots the cause of the goose bumps breaking across her skin, her feet remain firmly planted next to mine. When she makes a pledge, she keeps it—even if it kills her.

“Arabella is Aleena’s middle name.” After looping my arm around Nikita’s elbow, I commence moving us into the room that’s had my stomach in a state of turmoil all day.

I’m nervous about coming face-to-face with my mother again, but the unease making my composure a mess seems like more than ghosts of my past rearing their ugly heads. It feels more present and personal—like a mother’s hate isn’t as personal as it gets.

Perhaps it is knowing Ano accompanied me here? Even without photographic proof, I’m one hundred percent convinced Ano is Bayli. The timelines match, not to mention the lengths my mother will go to rid the people she deems unsuitable from her daughters’ lives.

I just don’t know how to break the news to either Aleena or Ano.

When the cause for Nikita’s weighed-down steps smack into me, I endeavor to lessen the load. I did a ton of cardio this morning. I don’t need more spasms hitting my midsection.

“My mother was only permitted to assign our middle names. She hated the names our father picked for us, so she encouraged us to use the names she selected for anything of importance. College admissions. Pageant shows. Pretty much anything that could result in it being used in print. I ditched her choice around the same time she ditched me.”

“Z…”

When the devastation in her voice makes my nose tingle, I hit her with a stern finger point. “Don’t. If you start, I’ll start, and then we will both be screwed.”

She bumps me with her hip. “Lucky our mascara is waterproof.”

“I wasn’t talking about makeup.” I stray my eyes to the side and then arch a brow like any of the heat from Maksim’s stare belongs to me. It doesn’t, but if a girl doesn’t occasionally stroke her ego, she may never build up the courage to give self-stimulation a go.

I am in such a severe sexual rut I’m convinced not even the most powerful sex toy will scratch the surface of my needs, but for some crazy reason, I’ve not given any of them the chance to shine.

My PG peck with Mikhail must have loosened a few screws in my head.

I’ve never felt more batshit crazy.

“Maksim will never hurt you,” Nikita says, her voice a purr. The cause of its throatiness is exposed when she murmurs, “Unless you hurt me. There are no guarantees then.”

“As there shouldn’t be.” I love how protective Maksim is of her and that she is slowly starting to accept that it is part of the package when you fall in love.

I’m thankful for the excuse to gag when Nikita asks, “So… what’s your middle name?”

I’d hate to be seen as a sentimental schmuck while in a room full of people who believe they can buy anything for the right price. The aroma in the air is rife with old money, and that stigma usually attracts reared-for-purpose brides.

It doubles my worry that Aleena is more under our mother’s thumb than she portrayed during her bachelorette weekend, but I won’t have a chance to check without enduring the tornado racing my way.

My mother has spotted my arrival, and despite being surrounded by powerful men vying for her attention, she doesn’t hide her disdain.

“Please excuse me,” she murmurs before making a beeline for me, standing frozen partway into the ballroom hosting Aleena’s rehearsal dinner.

I don’t want to make a scene. It will make my endeavor to speak to Aleena in a calm, understanding manner ten times harder, but I also refuse to be kicked out of the festivities again.

I was invited, goddamn it. It may have been by the means of a Post-it note, but Maksim and Nikita’s invitation was very much legitimate, and even if they wish for the opposite a minimum of once a day, we’re a unit. We’re on the same team.

As my mother’s hand shoots out for my arm, Nikita steps in front of me and thrusts out her hand in offering, dislodging my mother’s deathly grip before it can clamp on. “Mrs. Galdean, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

The crowd’s huff is as loud as mine when my mother barges her out of the way. She just made a costly mistake. One Maksim will not take sitting down. He’s at Nikita’s side in an instant, and despite Nikita’s numerous assurances that she’s fine, he looks set to kill my mother where she stands.

I should feel panicked.

I don’t.

It is impossible to love someone who has never loved you. That’s why I struggle to understand Andrik’s suddenly cold demeanor. If he was honest about needing to stay discreet for Zakhar’s sake, I would have given discretion a whirl.

After a final silent plea for leniency, Nikita introduces Maksim to my mother. She emphasizes her parental title, hopeful it will calm Maksim enough for him to see sense through the madness.

“She has been out of contact with her daughter for some time, so in her eagerness for them to reacquaint, she accidentally bumped into me.” Nikita twists back around to face my mother. “Isn’t that correct, Dina?”

My mother is as smart as she is beautiful. “Yes. I’m so sorry, dear. I didn’t realize how close you were standing to my darling offspring. It will not happen again.”

Maksim doesn’t believe her, but since he would rather appease his wife than pry the truth from a woman unworthy of his time, he mutters, “Ensure it doesn’t.” His glare speaks the words he can’t say since he promised no more carnage only weeks ago. Or the next bullet I release will be earmarked for your head.

Confident his message was read loud and clear, Maksim finalizes our guide into the rehearsal dinner. Yes, our walk. He didn’t lie when he said I am forever in his debt. He looks out for me as much as he does Nikita.

I’d love it if it didn’t announce things are well and truly over for Andrik and me. Maksim’s inclusion in Nikita’s life came with hundreds of men who see any woman with a pulse as fair game— excluding Nikita . They’re horny not stupid —yet Andrik’s lack of contact makes it seem as if I haven’t been propositioned a hundred times in the last week alone.

I haven’t used my dirtbox since the flight to the Trudny Peninsula District, meaning every “ Hey, baby, wanna fuck ?” and its hundreds of synonyms have been recorded by the state-of-the-art surveillance system Maksim has watching Nikita’s every move.

The evidence is there for a war of jealousy. It is the judge, juror, and executioner who are missing.

I’m drawn from my thoughts when Maksim pulls out a chair for me. It is directly next to Nikita and facing the main entrance doors. The kitchen and bar are behind us. He doesn’t care what the table plan says. His security team would have plotted the most viable exit before he arrived, and he will implement their strategies to the wire since it will guarantee Nikita’s safety.

He won’t tell me who is threatening her, just that the threat is viable enough for him to act on it.

“Thank you,” I murmur to the waitress when she fills my glass with wine.

The red goblet of goodness offers the perfect distraction to the swishing of my stomach.

Each glass of wine I enjoy over the next hour soothes my stomach’s swirls and replenishes the confidence I lost when my mother dug her French-tipped nails into my arm.

The reason for the wine selection makes sense when Aleena finally arrives to greet her guests. Its glossy appearance matches the fiery coloring of the ensemble that makes her appear far more mature than the twenty-two years she has graced this Earth. Her dress is seductive and alluring—a look she can totally pull off. She is gorgeous and naughty at the same time, the perfect combination of sexy and cute.

It is a custom for the bride to show up late to the festivities of her wedding, but Aleena’s numerous apologies about her fiancé’s tardiness as she does the rounds reveal they’ve mixed things up this time.

“He won’t be too much longer. He had some family business to take care of.”

Her dress swishes against her slim thighs as she moves from guest to guest.

“Oh… I’m as eager as you for him to show up, Mrs. Florence. I promise the delay will be worth it when you see how dashing he looks in his tuxedo.”

She laughs off one guest’s comment on her glowing state. “I’ll have you know my dress is white.” She leans in close before whispering, “Off-white is still white, right?”

I’m dying for her to reach our table, but our mother delays that for as long as possible. She pulls Aleena from one side of the room to the next that by the time she makes it to our table, the groom-to-be has finally showed up.

He is greeted by his guests with as much, if not more, euphoria as Aleena’s arrival instigated, and he’s hidden from view for almost just as long. More than his suit is crumpled when Aleena gestures for him to join her.

As he heads our way, he adjusts his wonky tie. He has the swagger that captures the attention of the room, and a suit that showcases every spectacular ridge of his body.

Aleena was right. He looks so dashing in his tuxedo that he’s instantly forgiven for his tardiness. There isn’t a single eye he doesn’t seize during his walk across the room, so you can imagine how hard it is to keep my expression passive when he finally lifts his head.

I know those eyes.

That smoldering smirk.

I’ve raked my fingers through that dark hair more than once.

But something is amiss with this picture. Andrik’s neck tattoos are gone. His hands are void of the artwork that was faded enough to announce that it has been a part of his life for as long as he’s been an adult. And his nose ring and diamond earring that scream rebellion have also vanished.

I swear I’m sitting across from Andrik, but it is like the watered-down version of the bad boy I was instantly obsessed with.

I’m in such a state of shock that when Aleena offers an introduction, instead of denying the handshake her fiancé holds out in offering, I slide my hand into his non-tattooed one and whisper softly, “Zoya Sakharoff.”

His top lip twitches before his grip on my hand tightens. “Kazimir Dokovic.” As his briefest touch rockets a zap up my arm, he works his jaw side to side. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Zoya.” He even sounds like Andrik—if not a little less arrogant.

“Likewise,” I murmur before sinking back onto my chair, taking my hand with me.

Aleena watches me for a handful of seconds before she introduces Kazimir to Nikita and Maksim. Maksim’s expression is furious. I don’t know if it is because he, too, is wondering who the hell Kazimir is or because Ano is signaling to speak with him over Aleena’s shoulder.

Maksim waits for Kazimir and Aleena to move on to the table next to us before checking if Nikita is okay being left alone. By alone, he means without him. Half a dozen bodyguards keep her safe when Maksim isn’t in charge of the campaign.

“Yes. If we leave before you return, we will meet you back at the suite,” Nikita replies.

His forehead kiss steals my attention from Aleena and Kazimir. It is as PG as it comes, but anytime he does it, Nikita’s cheeks inflame as if he is dragging the tip of his nose down the opening of her vagina.

The raunchiness of their exchange doesn’t contribute to its scorching-hot rating. It is how Maksim is unashamed to show how much he loves his wife even when they’re in public. Their relationship isn’t a hidden dirty secret. It is love not cloaked in shame.

After breathing in the scent of Nikita’s hair, Maksim locks his eyes with mine. He doesn’t speak. He just gives me a look I’ve mastered deciphering over the past month. It is one that announces we need to speak, but it won’t occur until whatever surprise he is organizing for Nikita is over.

I nod, happy to leave the awkwardness of our exchange on the back burner for a few hours.

I’m too confused to answer the numerous questions he and Nikita are silently bombarding me with since my introduction to Aleena’s fiancé. I’d leave it on simmer for eternity if that were an option.

Regretfully, it isn’t.

The groom-to-be’s arrival is meant to fuel the flames. Kazimir’s appearance douses them so well that dessert isn’t even served before the hotel staff commences packing down the room for tomorrow’s even bigger festivity.

“We can stay, if you want,” Nikita offers when I peer back in the direction of the ballroom, my steps to the elevator slow and reserved. “You hardly saw Aleena, and I don’t see it improving tomorrow. Kazimir’s relatives are very… imposing . They don’t seem willing to share him with anyone. Not even Aleena.” Although she is giving me an out, she stabs the elevator call button with her finger, eager to find out where her husband disappeared to.

Nikita will never admit it, but she suffers from jealousy more than Maksim does. Her possessiveness could give Andrik’s a run for its money.

When the elevator dings and we enter, I select the floor for the penthouse suites before asking, “Did you meet anyone in his family?”

Nikita moves in close to allow her bodyguards to ride the elevator with us before shaking her head. “There wasn’t a chance. Things were a little tense.”

Tense is an understatement. I’ve never felt more uncomfortable, and I let a stranger strap me to a sex swing in an underground sex club while heavily intoxicated. We won’t mention anything I’ve done with Andrik, as I’m not sure I would survive the guilt it usually entices this time around.

I’m as convinced that Aleena’s fiancé is Andrik as much as I am that Ano is Bayli, but where were his tattoos and unapproachable cocky demeanor? Kazimir could be Andrik’s twin, but why wouldn’t Mikhail mention him? Why would he make out as if it was solely him and Andrik against the world when they were kids? There couldn’t have been a third wheel. Mikhail would have told me about him. Our friendship formed fast, but it was founded on honesty.

My interest is piqued when Nikita says, “The woman next to us said his family is extremely powerful and politically motivated. It kind of makes sense. That was…” A million words roll through her head, but none leave her mouth until we’re halfway down the corridor of the penthouse suites. “Have the Galdeans met Kazimir previously?”

“Who?” I ask, still deep in thought about my many conversations with Mikhail concerning his family and striving to work out that if Kazimir is Andrik, why the hell wasn’t Mikhail and Ellis a part of the rehearsal dinner?

Nikita scans her key card over the lock of the suite she’s sharing with Maksim before repeating, “Kazimir. Aleena’s husband-to-be.”

“Oh… yeah. Him.” I try to keep anger out of my voice. I miserably fail. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

My stomach gurgles when the movie playing on repeat in my head returns to the start of the rehearsal dinner. The welcome sign outside the ballroom confused Nikita because Aleena is using her middle name for the wedding festivities. Who’s to say Andrik isn’t doing the same?

As I shadow Nikita into the foyer of the penthouse, I run my theory through my head on repeat.

I also give Andrik’s possible full name a whirl.

Kazimir Andrik Dokovic.

Kazimir Andrik Dokovic.

K. A. D.

My eyes pop when I recall the last time those initials turned my world on its head.

KADOK Industries.

K azimir A ndrik Dok ovic.

They’re the same person. My sister’s fiancé and the man who drafted a contract to ensure his wife-to-be knew their union wasn’t about love are the same person.

But that isn’t the catalyst of my anger.

He lied.

Dr. Hemway said Aleena wasn’t on Andrik’s list. That she would never be on any list where she was valued for her fertility.

He lied straight to my fucking face, yet I bet he will receive Aleena’s forgiveness long before me. I slept with her fiancé—more than once.

I also loved him.

I still do.

With my life falling apart in front of me, I seek assistance from the only person capable of pulling me out of the madness relatively unscathed. I need my best friend, but at the moment, she needs me more.

The wetness on her cheeks announces this, not to mention the high-pitched squeal she releases before sprinting for the man wearing a prison jumpsuit and shackles.

“Daddy!”