I was so far removed from the poor Christmases my mother and I had celebrated, it was disorienting. The interior of the house was lavish. An enormous tree, decorated in so much gold it was more ornaments than pine, was centered on the back wall of the spacious living area. Someone took my coat, and when Vasilije’s arm draped around my waist, I shrank into him.
“We’re going to want to leave as soon as possible,” Luka muttered to his brother under his breath.
“Fine by me,” Vasilije said, moving us deeper into the house and toward the herd of people near the tree.
There were servers floating around the party, dressed in black and white uniforms, and carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres. On Christmas Eve. It had to cost a fortune for this extravagant event. As I’d assumed, most of his family frowned at me as soon as Vasilije uttered my name. I sensed them whispering behind our backs, and although I didn’t feel shame, I was annoyed.
I cared about Vasilije.
I didn’t want them looking down on him because of me.
We mingled for a long while, and I started to grow nervous. We hadn’t seen Goran all night. I leaned into Vasilije and asked it as casually as I could. “Where’s your uncle?”
Vasilije gestured to the kitchen.
At just that moment, the crowd of people parted and I got a peek at the current king of the Markovic empire. He must have sensed my gaze, because he zeroed in on me and delivered the same look he’d given me last time.
Lust mixed with violence.
“Fuck,” Vasilije said under his breath. “Let’s get this over with.”
36
Goran seemed to abruptly end his conversation with the man he was talking to, and my heart clogged as he made his way over. His dark, terrifying eyes trapped mine.
“Nice to see you again, Natasha,” he said.
“Oksana,” Vasilije corrected.
“Oh. Yes.” Although I suspected Goran remembered my name and this was an intentional slight to show us both how little he cared.
I said nothing, choosing to deliver a tight, polite smile.
Goran wore a suit with ease like he didn’t own any other type of attire, and he held a glass half full of ice and an amber colored drink. His gaze flitted to the crowd, and he surveyed them like they were his subjects. His attention slowly worked its way back to us.
“It’s good to have Luka back here.” His tone was deceptively casual. “Maybe you can convince your brother this is his home, and get him to stay.”
Vasilije glanced over to Luka, and Addison at his side. “He’ll never leave her.”
“Get her on board, too. She’ll be useful.”
I felt tension roll through Vasilije’s body, and his face soured. “Addison’s been used enough, don’t you think? Luka doesn’t want her near any part of what we do.”
“Fucking Russians,” Goran muttered under his breath before taking a sip of his drink. “How much longer do you want to wait on Konstantine?”
“A few more days.”
Goran’s black eyes slid to me, like he somehow knew, even though he didn’t. “I’ll admit,” he said, “I’m surprised you’re still around. At first I thought my nephew was trying to piss me off, but he must be really taken with you.”
I hadn’t eaten much today due to my nerves, and had downed a drink for courage. The alcohol warmed my veins and made me indifferent. “Vasilije and I have a lot in common.”
Vasilije chuckled, enjoying my admission, but Goran’s eyebrow lifted. “Such as?”
Oh, shit. I couldn’t exactly say we both wished he was dead, or how we had murdered people who’d wronged us.
Vasilije had me covered. “I love sticking my dick in her, and she loves when I do it.”
His uncle lifted his gaze to the ceiling, visibly annoyed. “Charming.” When Filip materialized at his boss’s side, Goran motioned to me. “Filip, this is Vasilije’s whore, Natasha.”
“Oksana,” Vasilije hissed. “Is your memory going, old man?”
There was a silent battle over which Markovic could lift their eyebrow higher in displeasure, and Vasilije seemed to win. Or maybe I just wanted him to.
“Hello, Oksana,” Filip said automatically, before turning to his boss. “The caterer is asking for access to the wine cellar. We’re almost out of white.”
Goran waved a hand. “That’s fine, but go with her.”
“I’ll come with you,” Vasilije said. “Filip and I’ve got shit to talk about.”
The younger Markovic cast a look to me, heavy with meaning and wordlessly wishing me luck. My blood pressure spiked as I watched the men go, leaving me alone with Goran. With Vasilije gone, his uncle did nothing to disguise the desire from his face, raping me with his eyes. “That’s some dress you’re wearing.”
“Thank you. Your house is nice.” I shuffled forward on my heels, closing the distance between us, and dropped my voice low. “Maybe you could give me a tour and . . . show me what I turned down.”