Page 66 of Ruthless Reign

“You look stunning.” He gives me a hard, possessive kiss that makes me want to puke in my mouth. He probably thinks I’ve dressed up for him, which is definitely not the case.

I'm wearing a sleek, form-fitting fiery red dress, paired with heels that add inches to my already tall frame. Despite her insult, Katerina isn’t the only one who can pull off red. My hair is pulled back in a chic ponytail, highlighting the smoky eye that I finally got right on the third try.

“Thank you.” I try to keep my tone in check.

My father approaches and gives me a small peck on the cheek. “Have fun, dear.” His averted eyes and hollow tone hint that he’s signed a pact with the devil he can’t escape.

Oh, Papa, what the fuck have you done?

CHAPTER THIRTY

LIZA

Anatoly leads me into the lobby of the Bolshoi Theatre, his hand possessively on my lower back as if I’m the most precious thing to him in the world. What a lie that is. To him, I’m just a sparkly accessory, something to show off.

Tonight is the big opening of Carmen, and the place is packed with Moscow’s glitterati.

I really wish Kira was here for moral support, but Maxim whisked her off to some tropical paradise. She hinted it had something to do with mafia business and Maxim being overly cautious. I hope it’s nothing serious, but Kira didn’t seem worried.

With a pompous smile on his face, Anatoly guides me through the crowd, soaking up the congratulations and excitement about our upcoming wedding. This is the only time he actually seems happy to be with me—when he’s got an audience.

I’ve just freed myself from a conversation with the mayor’s wife, when Anatoly slinks up beside me, grabbing my arm. “My sister is here with Roman Vasiliev.” He tilts his head towards the champagne fountain they’re standing in front of.

“I see that,” I say, struggling to keep my composure.

They look like the ultimate power couple. Roman is as handsome as ever, dressed in a tailored dark suit with his thick hair slicked back. Next to him, Katerina glows. I knew seeing them together tonight would be hard, but I hadn't anticipated the surge of raw, homicidal emotion I’d feel. Especially when Katerina plasters herself to Roman’s side as they make polite conversation with a small group of people.

Glancing over, I’m surprised to see a frown on Anatoly’s face. Since I got home, he hasn't mentioned Roman and me being alone in London, which I'm thankful for.

“I thought you'd be happy for Katerina to be dating your business partner,” I say, testing the waters.

Anatoly's nostrils flare, and a cold flicker of something hard passes through his gaze. “I wouldn’t choose him as a brother-in-law. Vasiliev’s loyalty will always be to the Belov Syndicate, not to my family.”

My forehead creases. I'm unsure how to interpret that comment.

Anatoly spots a business crony in the crowd and stalks off after him.

I'm pulled into another conversation where I pretend to be excited about being a bride and the joys of wedding planning. Meanwhile, warmth spreads up my neck. My gaze drifts past the woman I’m speaking with and locks with a familiar set of deep brown eyes.

My stomach does a little dip, butterflies taking flight. Time slows, the crowd fades away, and for just a moment, I remember what it feels like to bask in Roman’s attention.

A figure steps in front of him, and the spell is broken. All I register is blonde hair and a red dress, much like my own, before his attention shifts to Katerina. She takes his face between her hands and brings her lips to his. It’s not a chaste kiss, nor is it a first-date kiss; it's filled with tongue, heat, and passion—and it's all wrong.

Mine.

The thought echoes through my brain.

What a lie. He’s not mine and never will be, but try telling that to my heart, aching with jealousy.

I didn’t believe Katerina when she told me that Roman had been pursuing her, but watching how she presses her body against his, their mouths still joined, I see I was wrong. He seems like a willing participant.

When she pulls away, the look of reverence he gives her is too much. His hand comes up and buries itself in her hair, then his eyes lock on hers as if she’s the only woman in the room.

Fuck this.

I can’t watch anymore. I can’t even bear to be in the same room as them. My heart feels like it's been ripped out of my chest, thrown to the ground, and trampled repeatedly. The worst part is that I have no right to feel this way—Roman owes me nothing. I’m the one who pushed him away.

“Isn’t it time to take our seats?” I cut Anatoly off mid-conversation.