Page 22 of Arrow

“I’m property,” I corrected.

“Property implies something inanimate. Something without potential.” His eyes traced the contours of my face with unsettling precision. “You’re far more interesting than that.”

The waiter returned with our food and arranged the plates. Steam rose from the perfectly-seared sea bass, the scent making my stomach clench in hunger. I hadn’t eaten properly in days, and my body was betraying me, responding to the promise of nourishment even as my mind rebelled.

“Eat,” Arrow said, picking up his fork. “Before it gets cold.”

I stared at the fish, pristine on its bed of white asparagus, and a delicate lemon sauce that pooled at the edges. Picking up my fork, I set it down again, a small rebellion.

“I need to use the restroom.”

Arrow’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Of course.”

Standing, I smoothed my dress with trembling hands, and made my way through the restaurant. Eyes followed me—not just Arrow’s, but others. People who recognized a Virelli when they saw one, who knew what my presence with Arrow Romanov meant. The weight of their stares pressed against my back like hands.

The bathroom was empty, with gleaming marble counters and soft lighting designed to flatter even the most haggard faces. I gripped the edge of the sink.

“You are not breakable,” I whispered to my reflection. “You are a Virelli.”

But what did that even mean anymore? My father had sold me without blinking. My brother was dead. My mother had chosen poison over staying in this world. The Virelli name meant nothing now—just a bargaining chip in the Romanov’s twisted game.

The bathroom door swung open. A woman entered. Tall, blonde, with the kind of cold beauty that only comes from generations of privilege. She glanced at me, recognition flickering in her eyes as she moved to the sink beside mine.

“So it’s true,” she said, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “The Virelli princess is marrying Arrow Romanov.”

I straightened, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Do I know you?”

She smiled, a predatory curve of her thin mauve lips. “Katerina. My family does business with the Romanovs.” She reached into her purse, extracting a tube of lipstick. “I just wanted to see the woman who caught Arrow’s attention. He’s famously particular.”

I watched as she applied her lipstick. “Is that what they call it?”

“Among other things.” She capped the tube and dropped it back into her purse. “I heard he had you collared. Like a pet.”

My hand instinctively went to my throat, where the obsidian collar had been.

She turned to face me fully. “I’ve known Arrow for years—since we were children, actually. He doesn’t do anything without purpose.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?” I reached for a paper towel to dry my hands that weren’t wet.

Katerina leaned against the counter. “Arrow Romanov has never been a one-woman type of man. He’s always fancied pussy over commitment. If you think you can chain him to you, you’re wrong. He has his vices, and no matter how good you suck his dick, there will always be someone who sucks it better.”

“Is this what you do for fun?” I asked, my voice steady despite the rage bubbling beneath. “Lurk in bathrooms to intimidate women you don’t know?”

Katerina’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. “Just offering some friendly advice. This world eats girls like you alive.” She smoothed her already perfect hair.

Before I could respond, she was gone, leaving behind the lingering scent of her suffocating perfume. When I returned to the table, I saw her sitting in my spot at the table, and she was laughing at something Arrow had said. His hand rested on the table, close to her manicured fingers, and I watched as she leaned in and whispered something that made his mouth twitch.

I froze, my stomach twisting with something I refused to call jealousy. This was rage. Pure, undiluted rage at the audacity of this woman to touch what was⁠—

No. I stopped that thought cold. Arrow wasn’t mine. I didn’t want him to be mine. I wanted him dead, preferably by my hand. But that wouldn’t stop me from causing a little chaos.

Approaching the table, I forced my face into a mask of indifference. “Am I interrupting?”

Katerina’s eyes glittered with triumph as she looked up at me. “Not at all. I was just catching up with an old friend.”

She stayed in my seat, smirking at me.

Arrow took a sip of his wine. “Katerina Volkov. Her father runs weapons through the Baltic.”