Page 35 of Viper’s Reign

“My picture?”

“Mr. Petrov was kind enough to provide one, since he couldn’t confirm your size.”

I turn to Dimitri, but he only shrugs.

“I’m sorry, could I have a moment with Mr. Petrov?” I ask the woman. She tosses an uncertain glance between us, but nods and steps out, closing the door behind her.

“What the hell, Dimitri? I thought this was supposed to be a date? You can’t bring me to a—a—” I gesture helplessly around the room. “Luxury clothing store and expect me to buy a dress.”

“Actually, I did, and I do.” He smirks and moves past me toward the settee, dropping onto it like he owns the place, stretching out with one arm draped along the backrest. “I told you—you’re coming with me to my brother’s wedding, and I want you wearing a beautiful dress. Though, honestly…” His gaze drags over me, deliberate and assessing. “You’d look good in a sack too. You’re a natural stunner.”

Heat rushes to my face at the bluntness of it, but I force myself to stay focused.

“I never agreed to go to any wedding with you.” He didn’t even ask.

A soft knock sounds at the door.

“Come in,” he calls, not breaking eye contact with me. Then, quieter, firmer, he adds, “You’re coming with me, Ace.”

13

GRACE

The way he says my nickname makes my heart slam, momentarily distracting me as the woman from earlier walks back in with that same polished smile.

“Do you have a style in mind?” she asks, moving toward me. “A color preference? Length?”

I haven’t thought about any of it. Hell, I haven’t even fully processed the fact that I’m apparently going to a wedding. A wedding full of Petrovs. The expo was one thing—a public event, hundreds of strangers, controlled chaos—a family wedding is another entirely.

My cover wouldn’t survive the first ten minutes. I’d be dead before the cake was cut.

I swallow, terror knotting in my belly. Why is he suddenly so set on taking me to his brother’s wedding? He doesn’t strike me as the type of man who’d just bring any random woman to meet his family. So what’s the deal? Is he fucking with me?

D-did he already find me out?

I steal a glance at him, but he’s already watching me, so I redirect my attention to Beverly and whatever she’s saying about silhouettes and body types.

“Let her try them on,” Dimitri says from the settee. “We’ll know what works when she’s wearing it.”

Beverly accepts this without argument and lifts a shimmering grey gown from the rail, holding it out to me. “This one first.”

I try to ignore the fear unfurling inside of me as I take it from her. The fabric slips through my fingers like liquid silk—cool and undeniably expensive. There’s no price tag, which is… telling.

I hesitate, glancing at Dimitri one more time, but he simply nods, his expression unreadable.

To my surprise, a welcome sliver of irritation slips through the fear in response. It helps immensely.

Fine. I can play along. Into the changing room I go. We’ll continue our discussion when we’re done here.

Defiance and fear mingle inside of me as I squeeze into the dress. It fits me like a glove, the deep grey fabric molding to my chest and waist before flowing over my hips, catching the light as I turn in front of the mirror. It’s pretty, sure, but I don’t think it’s right, I think, smugly. The color belongs at a corporate dinner or a funeral, not a wedding.

If Dimitri wants me to play a role, then I’m happy to cooperate—on my terms. Let’s see how long he can last in a changing room.

I walk out to tell him we’ll have to try another, but the words die on my tongue when I see his face.

Fuck. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, his eyes darkening, pupils dilating as they rake over me from head to toe. Heat floods my cheeks and continues moving lower.

“Turn around,” he commands, his voice rough, low enough that I feel it more than hear it.