Read Online Keep: Romanian Mob Chronicles by Kaye Blue - Free Book Online Page B

before I could think of a response and a few minutes later, Natasha burst into the room carrying two heavy garment bags.
    “I brought these for you,” she said, toddling over to me on her heels, face set into an almost gleeful smile. “I wasn’t sure what would fit, so I got a couple things. We’ll find something,” she said.
    I tilted my head in confusion. “Do you know what this is about?” I asked.
    “Vasile said dinner, so I imagine it’s business.” She glanced at me, her expression turning down. “You’ve done this sort of thing before, yes?”
    I nodded, swallowing down the disappointment that rose in my throat. After my initial reluctance, I’d begun to hope this mysterious “dinner” was something else, maybe a sign he cared for me, wanted to take me out. So stupid.
    “Yes, I have,” I finally said, memories of David, the countless evenings I’d spent playing the perfect hostess, the punishment for any mistake, racing through my mind.
    “So you know what to do.” She shrugged. “Just sit there and laugh when you should, don’t offend anyone. It won’t be hard.”
    Maybe not for her, but it was always hard for me. Always.
    “Who went with him before?” I asked.
    “Me, but it seems I’ve been replaced,” she said, looking away as she unzipped the garment bag and then pulled out one dress. She eyed the garment. “Too much skin. We’ll go with the other one.”
    “Natasha, I don’t—”
    “He’s doing you a great honor, you know,” she said, looking at me sympathetically.
    “What honor? I get to dress up and make nice with a bunch of madmen,” I said.
    “You get to sit at the side of one of the most powerful men in the country. Do you know how many would kill for that seat?” she asked solemnly.
    “They are welcome to it,” I said. I’d been in a seat like it before, a showpiece, a measure of my owner’s taste and worth, no different than a car or a house or a fancy piece of jewelry. I didn’t want to ever be in it again, not even for him.
    “They may be, but you said it yourself: we don’t get to make that choice.” Her expression shifted. “Now we have to get ready. We only have a few hours.”

    F awn
    “This is way too tight, Natasha,” I said, looking at myself in the mirror and frowning at the sight of the material pulled tight across my breasts and behind.
    “You’re completely covered. Classy but desirable. Vasile will be pleased,” she said, smiling like a proud mama.
    I thinned my lips at her statement. At the moment, I couldn’t care less what would please him and it seemed he felt the same, but I kept my thoughts to myself. “In the technical sense, you’re right. But the long sleeves and a high neck don’t change the fact this dress is so tight you can practically see my heartbeat,” I said.
    She laughed, staring at our reflections in the mirror. “You will be on the arm of Vasile Petran. No one will look above your ankles or below your chin,” she said.
    And she patted me on the shoulder. I grabbed her hand, wanting to thank her for her kindness, for making this whole thing much less awful than I knew it could have been.
    “I’m glad you’re going to be there.”
    She shrugged. “It might be fun. Someone’s always amusing at these things, and Sorin might not be too obnoxious,” she said nonchalantly, but I didn’t miss the tightness around her mouth.
    “Does he know?” I asked.
    She turned her eyes toward me, a faint little smile playing at her lips. “Know what?”
    “That you love him?”
    She lifted the corner of her mouth again. “You think I’m in love with Vasile, that I’m jealous because you took my spot,” she said.
    I shook my head. “I know you are not in love with him. But Sorin, does he know?”
    Her smile dropped, and for just an instant, I saw beyond her shiny facade, saw to the woman underneath, one who felt invisible to the man she loved.
    “No, but it doesn’t matter. I know what I mean to him, and he’s always