Page 52 of Bedazzled
“Does the horse cost extra?” I whispered.
As we entered the Grand Ballroom, we passed by one of the huge, ornate mirrors and I caught our reflection. We looked… amazing. Yuri was ridiculously hot in his perfectly-fitted tuxedo. His obsessive workouts to recover from his injuries had turned him into a mountain of a man.
In my dress… I felt like Catherine the Great. My posture was spectacular. Shoulders thrown back; head held high. Primarily because this dress was not only heavy, it was also strapless and my boobs were the only thing holding it up.
I could hear half a dozen languages spoken around me, Russian, obviously, and English. But there was also French, and German. Norwegian, I think, Ukrainian and some others I couldn’t pick out yet. I was good with languages; I already spoke Spanish, French and Japanese before I met Yuri, so picking up Russian was going faster than I’d expected.
This massive ballroom with every available surface slathered in gold leaf and crystal vases exploding with exotic flowers was something out of a movie. An insanely huge, big-budget movie filled with beautiful, obscenely wealthy people. The gowns the women were wearing made anything on the runway during New York Fashion Week look like dishrags.
“Privet, Yuriy, eto bylo slishkom dolgo.”
We turned and he nodded politely to the spectacular-looking princess who was eyeing him like he was carrying her future children’s chromosomes. I was pretty sure she actually was a princess because the woman had an honest to god tiara perching in her blonde hair. The tiara was slightly bigger than my first car and I couldn’t take my eyes off it, so it took me a minute to recognize her. Yuri’s date. At Marcel’s, back in Manhattan. After he broke my fucking heart.
“Mila Lenkov, it has indeed been too long,” Yuri said. “Allow me to introduce my lovely bride, Tania Morozov. Tania, Mila’s father and mine were close friends.”
Knowing what I did about what a sick fuck Yuri and Maksim’s father had been, I was already questioning what kind of man wanted to be friends with him, but… “It’s nice to meet you, Mila.”
She nodded slightly, not taking her eyes off Yuri. I was used to this. It happened constantly when we were out together. He was always very good about peeling them off him in the shortest amount of time and re-devoting himself to me. But she was as persistent as a remora attaching to a shark.
“Now that I am back in town, we must have lunch and catch up,” Mila purred.
“I’m sure Tania and I can find some time to meet for lunch next month or so,” Yuri said in his most bland and pleasant tone.
That ironed a patch over a corner of my broken heart.
We made a quick escape, and he drew my hand through the crook of his arm. “You need to know that the night- that night-” he paused and took a breath, “it was not a date. I was meant to meet her father for a business dinner, and he had her show up instead. I sent her home in one car and left in another.”
“Thank you for telling me. It… helps to know that.”
“Thank you for being willing to let me explain,” he said, kissing my hand again with just the slightest bit of tongue touching my skin.
Smooth bastard.
I was flying high when I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room and a tuxedoed Gavrill followed silently behind me. He was one of my favorites from Yuri’s sinister legion of security guards, so I gave him a thumbs-up as I headed into the bathroom.
“Be right out.”
“Of course, Mrs. Morozov,” he nodded respectfully.
“Hey, just call me Tania, Mrs. Morozov is Yuri and Maksim’s mom. Let’s not piss her off by stealing the title, okay?”
He looked pained. “I do not think theSovietnikwould like that.”
I sighed. “How about ‘Miss Tania’?”
Gavrill looks like the very thought of using my first name guarantees him a spot in Hell’s waiting room, just waiting for his ticket to get punched.
“We’ll work on it,” I promised, shutting the door.
After spending a good ten minutes trying to hitch up the huge skirt of my ball gown, I managed to hover over the toilet without peeing on my shoes. “So much easier to be a guy,” I muttered, readjusting my dress and opening the door to the main area, “one zipper and they’re just fine.”
“Excuse me?” A cultured, courteous voice speaks up from behind me.
I closed my eyes, groaning silently.Smooth. Very Catherine the Great-like.
Attempting my best regal expression, I sailed over and washed my hands, smiling pleasantly at the woman standing there. She was drying her hands with a fancy pink towel. The attendant was hovering at my elbow, waiting to give me one as I finished.
“Hello, I’m Oksana Kuznetsov. And you are Yuri’s new bride Tania,” she said, offering her hand to shake.
