Chapter 58 Episode 58

A second later, Carolina is back with two more people in tow. The man and woman who accompany her are younger, but they’re both runway-ready and effortlessly cool. “This is Margie,” Carolina introduces. “And this is Niles. They’ll be assisting me to assist you.” She gives a high-pitched little giggle and pulls out an ivory dress in a material I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. “It looks like it was made out of French butter,” I whisper. “It’s all about food with you, isn’t it?” Anton chuckles. I bite back a snort, mostly because it’s unladylike and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Ms. Fancy Pants and her two sidekicks. “What do you think?” Carolina asks. “That is beautiful,” I admit. “But I don’t know where I’d wear it.” “Dinner,” Anton suggests. “With me.” I throw him a glare. “Unlikely.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Jessa.” I cross my arms. “You can’t make me.” I gulp. Actually gulp. Because I can see it in his eyes—he will make me if he has to. “Fine,” I growl under my breath. “But only because I want to. Not because you told me to.” He just smiles at my pathetic attempt to save face as I stand up, snatch the dress from Carolina, and march into one of the dressing rooms. “Come out when you’ve put it on,” Anton orders me. The commanding lilt of his voice sends a shiver running down my spine. The good kind of shiver. I ignore it as I remove my clothes and put on the dress. It feels straight-up amazing. And it’s incredibly flattering as it falls over my hips. The neckline is so deep I have to take off my bra, but the dress is so structured I don’t really need to wear one anyway. Of course, that means I have a serious amount of side boob revealed. Which I suppose is the point. I run my hands over the A-line shape that hugs my waist before flowing into the midi skirt. I can’t lie—I feel like a million bucks. I guess that’s how you justify the price tag. Paying a couple thousand to feel like millions is a good deal, right? If you can afford it, that is. After one more glance in the mirror, I take a deep breath and walk out of my dressing room. Anton hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch. But Carolina has joined him there, legs crossed high to show a shimmering slice of bare thigh beneath the hem of her skirt. I’m only partly mollified by the fact that there’s a conspicuous two-foot chasm between them. “Hm,” Anton murmurs, his eyes running up and down my body. His gaze is not professional at all. It’s pure s*x, like no one else can see us. “Perfect.” I’m not sure if he’s talking about the dress itself or me. I choose to believe what I want to believe. “It’s nice,” I mumble. “But like I said, I don’t know where I would wear it.” “Leave that to me,” Anton says immediately. “We’ll take it.” “There’s a couple more things for you to try on,” he says firmly, gesturing towards the sidekicks. “Do you really want to fight me on this, Jessa?” he asks. “You know what they say: pick your battles.” I guess this is as good a way as any to spend a work day. I shrug. “Alright then. Bring on the next.” He gives me an approving nod, and my stomach does this little flippy thing that hasn’t happened since Tommy Lawrence smiled at me for the first time sophomore year. I spend the next two hours trying one sexy dress after another. Only after I insist does Carolina bring out a few trousers, blouses and, by some miracle, a sweatshirt or two. Of course, even the sweatshirts are incredibly chic and luxurious. They make cashmere look like a potato sack. At some point in the middle of my forced shopping spree, I actually start enjoying myself. I forget that I’m still a little nauseous and I throw myself into the fairytale. Never forgetting that it is, in fact, a fairytale. That fact becomes all too clear when Anton’s phone rings. “What?” he barks into his phone. He actually sounds like he’s pissed that he’s been interrupted. That has to mean he’s enjoying himself, too, right? “Say no,” he growls in response to whoever’s on the other end. “What the f**k does he think he’s doing?” His expression turns darker and darker, and I can feel the romantic day slipping further and further away. I move surreptitiously into the dressing room, ready to change back into my own clothes, when I realize that they’re gone. I stick my head out to find Carolina standing nearby. “Carolina, where are my clothes?” “Um, Anton requested that they be… disposed of, Ms. Jessa.” Before I can throw a fit that I wasn’t consulted about this, Anton’s voice drowns out my protests. “I don’t give a f**k!” I glance at Carolina, who gives me a reassuring smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Here you go,” she says, passing me the designer jeans and sweatshirt combo I earmarked half an hour ago. I change into them quickly, but I can still hear Anton’s conversation filtering into my dressing room. “… When is he coming? I f*****g know that, Yulian… I’ll get there when I get there. He can wait.” I step out of the dressing room and make eye contact with Anton. His mood has changed drastically in just a matter of minutes. His expression is lethal as he gets to his feet. He moves past the sidekicks without waiting for me to answer. I have to run to keep up with him. He doesn’t even make an attempt to pay before he slams out the doors. “Don’t worry, ma’am,” one of the sidekicks tells me as they hurry to catch the doors for us. “It’s all taken care of.” “Mr. Stepanov has a standing account here.” Jesus. I hurry after him and get into the Ferrari before Anton can tear off without me. A few seconds longer and he might have done just that. “Anton, what’s going on?” I finally pluck up the courage to ask. “Nothing that concerns you,” he replies sharply. I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He feels like a completely different person. Someone capable of all sorts of horrible things. Like, oh, I dunno… murdering his wife. The thought pushes into my consciousness and once it latches on, it refuses to leave. I sit there, fighting a growing sense of foreboding. The moment we arrive back at the mansion, Anton is out of the car and moving into the house. I follow him in, but I have no sense of what’s expected of me anymore. Are we still ‘friends’? a little voice in the back of my head asks pathetically. I flinch when he says my name. “Go upstairs and rest,” he says. Then, without further explanation, he turns and disappears down the hall. I stand there, staring after him, wondering what the hell could have changed his mood so damn fast. Sighing, I turn towards the stairs. But I linger at the bottom for some reason. And when I hear voices coming my way, I act on instinct. I duck into the first room I see. I wait for the voices to pass, but then they stop outside the door. “f**k me,” I whisper desperately to myself as I look around the room in a panic. I try to find another way out of here, but the only door is the one I just walked through. There’s just one place to hide—behind the large bar that takes up almost a quarter of the room. I rush behind it just as the door opens and I hear the shuffling of feet. I get on my hands and knees and inch closer to the side opening of the bar. I’m low enough that I think I can see without being seen. It brings back a strong sense of déjà vu. I remember the last time I peeked in on a meeting I was not supposed to be a part of. And just like that, the nausea is back. I make him wait. The old f**k is severely overestimating how much I need him. “Rodion is waiting for you in the bar room,” Yulian says as he approaches me from behind. “Does this look like a friendly visit to you?” Yulian sighs. “It doesn’t look good.” “He forgets: he’s not my father-in-law anymore. What we once were means nothing to me.” “Maybe it should,” he says in a small voice. “You think I should bend over for him?” I turn on my brother so he can see the naked fury in my eyes. “No, no, of course not. I’m just saying there’s no harm in giving him a little more leeway. Grief can do things to a man.” “Only to a weak man.” “He is Papa’s oldest friend,” Yulian says in a tone that suggests he knows exactly what he’s walking into. “That has to mean something, even now.” “The f**k it does. Business and friendship don’t mix.” “And his plan was shot to hell the moment Marina and I got married. That wedding was the single worst mistake of my life.” He sighs and drags a hand over his face. “Surely you had your moments with her?”