Page 40 of Ruthless Vow
He hesitates just long enough for me to move past him. He follows anyway, close behind me like a shadow. I take the stairs carefully, one step at a time.
The entryway is crowded when I finally reach the bottom. Sergei is there, along with two men I recognize from the convoy. Their posture is tight and controlled. Viktor stands near the front door with his sleeves rolled to his forearms, gaze fixed on a long wooden crate sitting on the tile.
The crate is reinforced with metal corners. It looks expensive. There’s an envelope nailed to the top, sealed with wax. I recognize the crest immediately.
Viktor is standing closest to it, which means no one else is going to touch it unless he tells them to. Sergei is to his left, arms folded, face tight. Two of Viktor’s men stand near the door with their hands close to their jackets, eyes moving between the crateand the street beyond the glass. No one is speaking. No one is moving. The silence makes my skin prickle.
Viktor crouches and studies the envelope nailed to the top. He doesn’t touch the wax seal with his bare hand, which tells me he thinks it’s a trap. He’s considering explosives, powder, poison, anything Mikhail could possibly get into this house.
He slices the envelope open with a knife and pulls out a single card. Even from here I can tell the paper is thick and expensive. His eyes move over the words and his frown deepens. His expression stays controlled, but I see the muscle in his jaw jump. Sergei watches him closely.
“What does it say?” he asks.
Viktor doesn’t answer Sergei. Instead, he looks down at the crate.
“Take it outside,” he says.
His men hesitate for just a moment.
“Now,” he says, voice low.
“It’s for me,” I say, and every head turns toward me. “I want to see what he sent.”
Viktor’s gaze snaps to my face and his eyes narrow. “No.”
I don’t back down.
“Yes,” I say. “He was bold enough to send something here. We need to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
His jaw tightens. The men look between us, wondering what they should do. We all know that Viktor’s word here is law, but even he doesn’t seem sure now.
“Open it,” he finally says.
Sergei takes a knife and slices through the thin plastics straps. They snap loose with sharp pings. Then he and one of the guards each take one side of the top and begin to lift. I take a step closer, and wish that I had just let Viktor dispose of it.
White fabric fills the inside of the crate. I recognize the dress immediately, of course. It’s the one Mikhail decided for me. According to him, it was the only one that made me look respectable.
It’s a huge ballgown with a flowing skirt covering layers and layers of tulle. The lace and beadwork is exquisite, but it covered all the way up to my neck. I remember feeling like the dress was choking me. Even now, I feel that familiar sensation and want to grab at my throat. Not here, though. Not in front of all these men.
I keep my face composed. I refuse to let anyone see how afraid I actually am.
I stare at the dress and feel my stomach roil again. My hand twitches at my side. I want to grab it and tear it apart. I want to shove it into the mud. I want to wipe the whole idea of it from the world.
I look at Viktor’s men. Their eyes are on me now, cautious and curious, waiting for my reaction. I give them nothing.
“Burn it,” I say.
The words come out flat and controlled. Viktor’s gaze cuts to me, then he looks at his men.
“You heard the woman,” he says authoritatively. “Take it to the trash compactor at the docks and burn it.”
The men close the box and remove it from the entryway. I never want to see it again.
“What did the note say?” I ask Viktor when only he and I are left.
“You know what it said,” he replies, turning on me with the full force of his gaze. “It doesn’t bear repeating.”
I don’t argue with him. If the dress is making me feel this sick, I can’t imagine what the words in that note would do. This is what Mikhail wants. This reaction, precisely, was his aim. Even from far away, he’s trying to control me, to make me afraid and to bend to his will. I could let him win, or I could choose to say enough is enough.
