“Charlotte.” Arman says my name as though he’s testing it out. “That’s a sweet name.”
“No one really calls me Charlotte. My family calls me Charlie,” I say, feeling the heat of Nikolai’s hand through the elegant fabric of the dress.
“Charlie?” Arman’s eyebrows lift. “Doesn’t fit you as well.” His eyes roam over the entire length of my body.
“I looked into that warehouse you mentioned yesterday,” Nikolai interjects. “I’m not sure it’s a good buy for us. I’m not sure that part of town is safe.”
Arman swings his attention back to his brother. “We might be able to swing something. Maybe we should bring it up to the old man.”
“I will, but I wanted to let you know I’d looked into it.”
Arman nods. “So, where did you two meet?” he asks, bringing his gaze back to me.
“He stopped into my deli.” I try to stand straighter and keep up with the conversation. It’s bad enough he’s dragged me here, but I won’t be looked at as though some sort of ornament for his arm. Even if that’s technically what I’m supposed to be.
“What deli?” he questions. He’s not really interested; he’s fishing for information.
Nikolai has a bland expression on his face, like he’s bored with the conversation.
“Harrison’s Heroes. It’s north in Morris Heights.” There’s no reason he would know where it is. Men like him probably don’t drive up to the burbs for a submarine sandwich.
“Harrison.” His eyes move up to meet with Nikolai’s. “Family name?”
I nod. “My last name, yeah.”
“Charlotte Harrison.” A smirk plays on his lips. “You do get to have some fun, little brother.” Arman slaps Nikolai’s shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, Charlotte.” He winks then walks off into the crowd of people.
“He knows.” My shoulders slump.
“What?” Nikolai asks.
“He knows how we met, why I’m here. He knows. I can tell.” I maneuver away from his grip.
“Charlotte, it doesn’t matter what he knows or what he thinks he knows. What happens between us is none of his fucking business.” He walks behind me as I wiggle through the crowd. I have no idea where I’m going. Was the entrance to the left or right of this room?
“Charlotte, stop,” he orders, but I’m not in the mood for listening. I just need to keep moving until I find the front door. Or the back, whichever will get me outside away from all these people.
“Charlotte! Oh, you look beautiful in that dress.” Alina from the boutique steps away from a small group of people with a bright smile on her fuchsia-painted lips. She’s fabulously dressed in a cream off the shoulder dress that accentuates her hips and full breasts. Her hair is curled perfectly around her shoulders.
“Alina. Hi.” I come up short when she makes her way to me. Nikolai isn’t far behind me, a step or two. I can feel him; I don’t need to look.
“I knew that dress was perfect for you.” She grabs my shoulders and kisses both of my cheeks. During our time together this morning she was civil, but she wasn’t this polite. “Oh, Nikolai. Hi.” She sweeps her hair from her face and smiles brilliantly at him.
His hands land on my shoulders and he squeezes—a warning not to take off again, I’m sure.
“Alina. Good to see you again.” He slides his hands down both of my arms and takes my left hand in his right hand, moving me to his side. “If you’ll excuse us, I want to give Charlotte a tour.”
Alina’s shoulders drop a fraction and there’s less shimmer to her smile, but she merely nods. “I’ll see you later then.”
He grabs hold of my elbow and moves me forward, toward a set of stairs.
“Nikolai.” An older man appears as though he was waiting in the shadows for Nikolai to get near enough to him.
Nikolai grumbles something under his breath but I don’t understand what he says. The older man doesn’t seem to have heard him either.
“Dad.” Nikolai pulls me closer to him, as though he’s protecting me from being swept away with the current of people moving about the hallway.
“I didn’t know you had arrived.” He smiles down at me. “Or that you were bringing a guest.”