“Don’t thank me,” I say with a small laugh. “My mother put all of this together. She’s amazing at throwing parties.”
“An important skill for a wife in our position. I’m sure she taught you well.” Caterina looks at me shrewdly. “Maybe we should throw one together, at my and Viktor’s home in New York, after the wedding. I’m sure Connor could make some excellent connections there.”
“Maybe,” I tell her politely. “I’ll see what Connor thinks, absolutely.”
“I’m sure Viktor has discussed him coming to Manhattan to network. Luca has probably extended an invitation as well.” Caterina sees my flicker of irritation at that, and smiles faintly. “Sofia will come around. She wasn’t born to this, you know that. She doesn’t control her emotions as well as you or I do.”
“Howexactlydid you end up married to Viktor, anyway?” I glance at her.
Caterina lifts one delicate shoulder in a half-shrug. “My first husband was killed, as you know. Viktor was angry that Luca stole Sofia out from under him. He wanted me as repayment, of a sort. My hand in marriage in exchange for the peace between the Italians and the Bratva, just as the senior McGregor’s life was the payment for their peace with the Kings.”
“And you didn’t fight it?”
“It’s the way of things.” Caterina looks at me calmly. “I tried to insist on certain stipulations, of course. Some were honored and others weren’t. In the end, it all worked out.”
“Weren’t you terrified, being married to him? Especially considering his—business dealings, back then.” I try to hide the small shudder that runs down my spine. As long as I’ve been old enough to hear the whispers of business that pass through our family house, I’ve known that Viktor Andreyev was once considered a terror, a purveyor of virgins who fell into his hands to men willing to pay a high enough price for them.
“Of course I was,” Caterina says with a small laugh. “But it was the price for peace. It was my duty. I found my own ways to keep my power in the marriage, for a time. And then later, Viktor and I came to know each other more intimately and I fell in love with him.” She smiles softly. “It’s not that way for everyone, of course. Sofia and I have been lucky in that we’ve learned to love our husbands, and that they love us fiercely in return. But it’s not necessary. I married Viktor without love, and I would have stayed with him without it, too. Sofia is different in that regard—she didn’t want to stay without love. She doesn’t understand what drives women like you and me to do our duty, regardless of the personal cost.”
I glance down at Caterina’s arms. She’s left them uncovered today, her neckline scooped instead of up to her throat, a concession to the steadily growing summer heat. As a result I can see the hair-fine scars that run over her pale skin, crisscrossing her arms and chest, scars that no amount of massages or dermaplaning or oils can ever fully heal. A plastic surgeon might have been able to do something about them, and she certainly has the money for it, but I wonder if she left them for a different reason—to show that she survived what it was that she endured.
I don’t know much about it—only that she was kidnapped by a traitor within Viktor’s circle along with Sofia, Anastasia, and another woman in Caterina’s household—and the wild rumors that have circulated among the white-collar crime upper-class households that we all belong to. I’m not about to ask, either—it would be beyond rude. But there’s a certain way she holds herself that makes me respect her more than before, a regal bearing that says whatever she’s had to bear in her short life, she does so with considerable grace and strength.
Before I can say anything else, though, I see my mother’s eyes fly wide as she lets out a soft gasp, and hear the sound of a door opening.
“What isshedoing here?” my mother hisses, looking at me, and I turn to see who she’s talking about—only to feel my stomach sink to my toes.
Anastasia McGregor—neeIvanova—is walking towards me determinedly, her blue eyes wide in her face and her lips pressed thin, and I can see her swallow convulsively as she gets closer.
Whatever reason she has for being here, she looks just this side of terrified, and that tells me this wasn’t all her idea.
“Did you do this?” I whisper in a sharp hiss, turning towards Sofia, who is only a few feet away conversing with two of the other Kings’ daughters. She shrugs lightly, turning back to her conversation, and I feel something hot and angry start to burn in the depths of my belly.
I might not be enjoying myself all that much, but this ismybridal shower to not enjoy, not Sofia’s or Anastasia’s to ruin. My mother is starting to rise, and I can see from her face that she’s on the edge of imploding—which wouldn’t be good for anyone. She won’t make a scene, she’s too proper for that, but she’d be even crueler to Anastasia than I would. I don’t hate the girl, after all. I just want her to fuck off out of my life.
“Haven’t you done enough damage?” I hiss as I stalk towards her, grabbing her elbow and veering her off before she can make it fully into the sunroom. I don’t want to make a scene in front of everyone either, so I steer her out of the side door, towards the pool just out of sight of the others. I’m sure everyone is craning their necks anyway, trying to see what’s going on, but I don’t want this conversation to be a sideshow piece—or worse, overheard by the busybodies inside.
“What are you doing here?” I continue as Anastasia jerks her elbow out of my hand. She’s put on a little weight since I saw her last—which is to say she looks more like a normal girl now, and less like the ballerina-thin waif that she was before. I can’t help but glance at her waistline to see if there’s any hint of the baby, but of course she’s not showing yet. She hardly could be, this soon.
“I came to talk to you about Liam and Connor.” Anastasia knots her hands together in front of her, and I can see how pale she is. She looks stressed, as if she hasn’t been sleeping well, and I suppose she has reason not to. Her husband’s life, not to mention her future and that of her child, is hanging in the balance.
“This isn’t the time—”
“I was told I’d find you here. That you’d definitely be home today. I had to try.”
“By who?” I demand irritably. “Sofia? You should tell your best friend to watch her step, Anastasia. She might be your friend, but she’s Luca’s wife, and Luca has thrown his cards in with Connor. She’s likely to end up with her own future in jeopardy if she’s not careful.”
“She was my friend before she was his wife,” Anastasia says defensively.
“It doesn’t matter, and the fact that neither of you understand that shows just how woefully unprepared either of you are to be wives to men like Luca and Liam.” I narrow my eyes at her. “You’d have been better off staying away from him. He’d be safer, and so would you.”
“But I didn’t. And he didn’t want me to.” Anastasia raises her chin a little defiantly. “He wanted me. Helovesme. And I love him.”
“Then you should be home convincing him to get both of you out of Boston,” I tell her flatly. “If you love him so much. That would save his life.”
“Or you could talk Connor into dropping all of this, and going back to London,” Anastasia blurts out, and I stare at her.
“Did Liam tell you to come talk to me about this?” I ask her finally, and she shakes her head.