I point at the plate with my fork. “This is so good. I feel like I haven’t eaten anything in forever.”
“You haven’t,” he notes, turning his attention back to his own plate. “Are you going to tell me about this event we’re going to crash?”
I nod, finish chewing, and shift on the stool to face him. “It’s an annual charity event. Everyone will be there. Once we are in, we can easily overtake any resistance and get my seat back. I’ll have allies there, friends, and with me in front of them demanding the allegiance, they promised they won’t be able to refuse me.”
His shoulders tighten, and I let myself look my fill before going back to my meal. It takes so long for him to speak I’m wondering if I said something to upset him.
“I don’t think you understand how volatile this situation may be.” His tone is soft, as if he fears my reaction.
Only because of his halting tone do I think about what he’s saying. Usually, he says something, I say something back that contradicts what he’s saying, all of it more of a fight than a conversation. Nothing more than bids for dominance in a world where I don’t actually want to be top dog. Yes, I want my council seat. I want to watch over my people. But in Michail’s arms, I want him to take control. Something tells me he likes to fight me for it every time.
After swallowing a lump in my throat, I take a sip of water to give myself more time. “I understand what you are saying. I’d like to go anyway, and if things look dicey, we can leave. The event space will be packed, and it’s a masquerade. No one will notice me until I choose to be noticed.”
He eats a few more bites of food and nods into his plate. “Fine, we’ll go if that’s what you want, but you’ll be armed in as many ways as we can manage before we head in there.”
I smile, knowing how much it means when he gives in to something he’s dead set against. He’s more hardheaded and stubborn than I am.
We finish our food, and I wash the dishes quickly. I usually never cook at home, so this was a rare treat.
When I’m done, I find him in my office, staring down at his laptop from the armchair in the corner. He points to a huge box in the center of the room. “Your fiancé sent you a present.” His tone is biting, and I hide my flinch as I circle the box.
“Are you sure it’s from him?”
He nods, eyes on his screen. “He brought it personally.”
I gently pry the white lid from the top of the box and part the creamy tissue paper. Nestled inside is an array of dresses all in various colors, cuts, but every single one in my size.
“He sent you fucking clothes?” Michail asks, craning his neck for a look over the edge of the box. “Doesn’t he know how much you hate when men try to dress you up like a barbie doll? You aren’t wearing one of those with me on your arm.”
I pull out the first dress, a champagne number with soft tulle skirts. It’s feminine and in no way my style. I lay it gently aside. “There’s a difference. He sent me multiple things to choose from, and while I don’t generally like clothing as a gift, these are lovely. Also, you won’t be by my side. I have to go with Emmanuelle. It will be expected.”
A sharp crack splits the room, and I jerk my head up. He’s thrown something from his spot to the far wall. “What happened to no one will recognize you? If you’re with Emmanuelle, everyone will recognize you.”
I shrug, cataloging each dress. All of them are lovely, but none my taste. “Maybe in your city. Here, with both of us in masks, no one will suspect a thing. There’s no way anyone can recognize him that way.”
“You are naïve if you think this is all going to go according to your half-assed plans.”
I shove off the box, using it for leverage to gain my footing. “And you’re jealous, which is why you’re being such a dick right now.”
We lasted a whole hour without fighting, a new record for us. “I’m going back to bed, and you can stay down here or in the guest room for all I care.”
Michail picks up his phone, his eyes locked with mine, and quickly taps out what I assume is a text. Then he places it back beside his laptop and throws me a challenging look.
My phone vibrates, and I’m about to call him childish for texting me when I’m standing two feet in front of him, but the text isn’t from him. It’s from Kai.