My eyes flit automatically to Queen Jasmine. She’s standing between two older men, trying desperately not to look bored.
“That’s Jasmine Reglan,” Yulian says, following my line of sight.
“Who’s she?”
“Daughter of Don Carlos,” Yulian tells me. “Married to William Carrington.”
“She looks awful flirty for someone with a ring on her finger.”
Yulian chuckles. “Poor bastard is probably at home in the doghouse,” he explains. “He’s her third attempt at marital bliss. A twenty-eight-year-old former playboy who gave up on his dreams of being an actor and traded it in for the pleasure of being a kept man. He’s new to the life.”
“What life is that, exactly?”
“The life of power and intrigue, deceit and mind games. It’s never easy on the ones that marry into it. Hell, it’s not easy on the ones who are born into it.”
I glare up at him. “Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you, or are you trying to scare me?”
He looks mildly amused by that. “Scare you? What, are you trying to marry into this life?”
My face flushes warm, and I turn away from him. He caught me. I’m about to make an excuse and leave when I notice Anton again.
He’s on the other side of the room with Jhené. I can see Anton’s face, but her back is to me. All I can see are layers of sun-swept golden hair.
“She’s a knockout, isn’t she?” Yulian says. “Jhené Torino. Bratva princess.”
“Princess? Is that a thing in the Bratva?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Do all Bratva princesses look like that?”
“Don’t be fooled. Not all that beauty is real.” He gives me a pointed smile. “Wanna spot what’s fake?”
I survey her again, feeling a weird combination of girl crush meets simmering jealousy. “The boobs?”
“No, actually, those are real,” he says.
I frown. “And you would know because…?”
He bows mockingly. “A gentleman never gropes and tells.”
I roll my eyes. “Charming.”
“Always. Keep guessing.”
“The ass?”
“Bona fide, I’m afraid.”
I feel a twinge of discomfort in the realization that I’m actively objectifying a woman right alongside a real pig of a man. But then I feel that twist of jealousy again and the petty part of me decides to keep playing along. Shit, I might be a bad person.
“The nose?”
“Bingo.” Yulian nods. “She used to look like Miss Piggy.”
“Wow. That’s fucked up.”
He shrugs. “True story.”