21. Bronwyn

21

brONWYN

The guy was big. Not quite as tall as Radimir but wide, with a heavy build and enormous shoulders and arms. He sauntered forward, invading my personal space and my stomach flipped: I felt... fragile, next to this man, like he might just pick me up and snap me for fun. I wanted to shuffle backwards but it felt like everyone was watching me: these people didn’t show fear, and I couldn’t, either. I lifted my chin and looked up into his eyes.

And froze.

With some men, you just know. It was the same sort of powerful, instinctive reaction I’d had with Radimir. But Radimir’s gaze made me feel protected and appreciated. He’d lusted after me but in a way that made me feel lifted up.

This man’s cool blue eyes took. They sliced away my black dress until it felt ruined. They measured and probed my body until I wanted to squirm, embarrassed by the parts he liked and humiliated by the parts he didn’t. I felt like a bug he’d pinned under one thick thumb so that he could play with me. And as I twisted inside, I suddenly realized I recognized his face. He had thick, mousy hair where his brother had been bald, but there was no mistaking the family resemblance.

We killed his brother. My stomach plunged.

Radimir stepped forward, inserting himself between the man and me, forcing him to take a step back. “I was very sorry to hear of your loss, Spartak,” he said solemnly. How could these people lie so easily? “This is Bronwyn. My fiancée .”

All my fear was forgotten for a second because, out of nowhere, I was floating up, up, up, bobbing towards the ceiling. The growly, possessive way he said it. The way his accent carved the word fiancée out of ice, making it sparkle with pride and letting Spartak know I was off limits. I knew it was all fake, but it didn’t matter. Hearing him call me his fiancée tapped straight into those stupid, childish fantasies and made me feel like I was flying.

A hush descended. Radimir had said the last two words loud enough that they carried, and then whispers spread them to every corner of the room. Women glared. Men looked at me with new caution. I suddenly realized that the engagement wasn’t just about stopping me testifying. It was Radimir’s way of protecting me. Don’t even think about touching her. She’s mine.

Spartak raised an eyebrow. “Well, you certainly kept that quiet. Congratulations.” He glanced around and then snapped an order in Russian, so quick it was more of a noise than a word. I expected a dog to come trotting up, but a woman slunk to his side, instead. “This is Liliya,” he said proudly. “My wife.”

Liliya pressed up against him, her hip to his hip, as if it was something she’d been trained to do. She was leggy and graceful, with beautiful blonde hair plaited into a single braid that fell down her back and soft, tan skin. She gave us a nervous smile, her eyes flicking fearfully to Spartak.

“It was a beautiful service,” said Radimir calmly. Then he laid a hand on Spartak’s shoulder. “Your brother would have liked it.”

Spartak stared into Radimir’s eyes, and my chest went tight. But Radimir just gazed back at him, cool and sincere. How the hell does he do that? How could he lie so brazenly, right to Spartak’s face? My stomach twisted. How was I ever meant to trust him, now I knew he could do that? What if he lied to me?

What if he already has?

Then Spartak looked right at me. “My brother would have liked you. It’s a pity you never got to meet him.”

My throat locked. Does he know? My lips mouthed soundlessly. No. of course he doesn’t. But if I didn’t say something, he might guess. “I’m—I’m sorry too,” I managed.

Spartak nodded slowly, then turned away. His wife didn’t follow quickly enough, and he grabbed her wrist and pulled her. For the first time, I noticed that her black dress had long sleeves.

My chest went tight with worry for her. But I was marrying a gangster, too. Was I just kidding myself, was Radimir really any different from Spartak? I stared at Liliya as her husband dragged her along. Is that what I’ve got to look forward to?

I’m going to marry him. It hadn’t been real. Suddenly, it was, and I couldn’t breathe.

“I need some air,” I croaked, and ran for the door.