Page 29 of Bedazzled
It had been so long since someone had made me laugh like this.That used to be Yuri’s job…I thought.
“It’s entirely plausible,” I agreed, smothering the last of my laughter in my club soda.
“I must admit,” he said, “I can see why Yuri was so taken with you.”
There were alarm bells clanging in my head, “Do you do business with the Morozov’s?”
“Word is that he was very fond of you,” he continued, ignoring my question, “but they always go back to their own kind, don’t they?”
I opened my mouth to snarl at him then paused. Wait, did he mean to be xenophobic toward Yuri, or was he being classist to me, or…
“It’s a shame,” O’Rourke continued, “I wouldn’t have let you go, even if I did have to make an advantageous marriage.”
I frowned, equal parts concerned, weirded out, and horrified that he brought up Yuri at all. He smiled at my confusion.
“Oh, you didn’t know?”
“Know what?” I asked sharply because I was done with this game-playing rich boy.
“Yuri Morozov’s getting married,” he said, watching me closely. “A sweet young thing from the Balabanov Brat- oh, excuse me, the Balabanovfamilyin Moscow. Sometime next month.” He accepted the fresh drink from Lana, grinning at my stunned expression, his perfectly straight, white teeth gleaming. “You really didn’t know, did you? Ouch.”
“Did you know?”
“Know what? Are you okay?” Ella’s voice went from cheerful to concerned.
I was huddled in the back seat of my Uber, sobbing hard enough that my phone was getting wet.
“About Yuri. That he’s getting married.”
“WHAT?” She screamed, loud enough that my driver looked up, alarmed.
“I guess that’s a no,” I would like to say something scathing so it doesn’t sound like I’m crying blood, but that’s sure what it feels like.
“How- where did you hear this?” I could hear her heels clacking down the marble hallway of her penthouse and I was pretty sure she was breaching the sanctity of Maksim’s office.
“One of the asshole investors in the new Papachristodoulopoulos real estate project told me tonight. He was all kinds of thrilled to deliver the news,” I sniffled.
“This can’t- there’s no way- Maksim, I really need to talk to you!” There was muted grumbling in Russian and I knew the room was clearing in a hurry. “Look honey,” she said, “I’ll call you back, okay?”
“Okay, thanks.”
I looked at my driver, who was still watching me in his rearview mirror, wide-eyed. “Just let me out here, please.”
“You sure?” But he was already pulling over to the curb. “Hey,” he said as I clumsily got out, “whoever he is, that asshole does not deserve you, sister.”
I nodded, giving a weak, polite laugh. “Yeah, men are trash, huh?”
He nodded back, solemnly. “Menaretrash.”
While walking the last forty-six blocks home in high heels was, as my mom says, “punishing no one but me,” it gave me a chance to almost convince myself that O’Rourke was completely full of shit.
Until Ella called me back.
“What did Maksim say?” There was a moment of silence, and it was all I needed. “That heartless dick is getting married.”
She was crying, “He told me he’d only known for a couple of days and he was trying to get Yuri to change his mind. Maksim thinks he’s punishing himself for living. Survivor’s guilt?”
I laughed. It was not a nice laugh. “He’s working through his survivor’s guilt by marrying a hot little Bratva princess after skipping town? Yeah, that’s definitely a sound therapeutic approach. Unbelievable.”
