Page 112 of Marrying My Ex's Brother
But I see it.
His gaze moves over my face, lingering on the scar like it always does when he wants to remember me as the boy he could keep outside locked doors.
“You are still angry about old things.”
I step closer. “Enjoy your evening, and quit worrying about me, Father.”
“You’ll regret it soon enough,” he warns me. Then he leaves us, moving back into the crowd with the controlled pace of a man who refuses to appear dismissed.
Anya is still beside me, her body tight with held breath.
I look down at her. “You handled that well.”
She turns her face toward mine. There’s color high on her cheeks. Anger in her eyes. Nerves beneath both. “I thought I was going to faint.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“Good.”
Her mouth tightens. “Stop saying that.”
I almost smile. Then I see her gaze move over my shoulder.
The color drains from her face.
I turn slightly. Across the room, near the auction platform, Dmitri has arrived.
And beside him stands Katya.
19
ANYA
For a moment,I forget where I am.
The hall, the lights, the music, Yaromir’s hand at my waist, all of it fades behind the sight of Dmitri and Katya standing near the auction platform.
Together.
Not touching, not obviously. They are too careful for that now. But I know what closeness looks like when people are trying to hide it. I know the small angle of Katya’s body toward him. I know the way Dmitri’s attention keeps slipping to her, even while he pretends to look at the room.
My stomach twists.
I hate that it still hurts. I hate that after everything, after running from the wedding, after marrying Yaromir, after the blood and the hotel and the strange new life I have somehow stepped into, the sight of them can still make me feel like the foolish girl outside that sitting room door.
Katya sees me first.
Her face changes. Only for a second. Shock, then calculation, then something almost like guilt before she smooths it away.
Dmitri follows her gaze, and his eyes find mine. The change in him is immediate. He stops mid-sentence. His mouth parts slightly. The arrogance slips from his face, and for one raw, satisfying second, he looks exactly how I once felt.
Unprepared.
Wounded in public.
Good.
