Before I could ask about the wine, the sound of heels striking in a two-beat rhythm echoed from down the hall. Each step, two-beats, growing gradually louder, the closer they came. Bodhi moved to stand right next to me.
Wine in hand, I composed myself. Perhaps it was our host’s wife or…
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ezra muttered under his breath.
Shock stapled itself to me.
“Mrs. Waldemar,” Andrews said as Margareta Waldemar sauntered—and yes, she was absolutely sauntering—into the room in her gold filigree dress, looking like she’d just stepped out of the opera. “May I present our guests for the evening…”
Andrews introduced us all by name, not that she needed such formality. Still, we all played our parts, even Margareta. Then Andrews gave her the wine.
“Thank you, Andrews,” she told him in her cultured voice, the barest hint of an accent present. “Do go take care of whatever it is, Mr. Solohub requires. I’ll be just fine with our guests.”
“Ma’am.” Andrews all but clicked his heels together, nodded his head, and then strode out again.
“Mrs. Waldemar,” Adam said in a chilly tone. “What an unexpected surprise.”
“Well, if you’d expected me, dear boy,” she told him with a smile. “It wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?”
“No,” Milo said, his tone damn near as guarded as Adam’s. Ezra didn’t say anything but the stiffness in his posture and his arm betrayed every inch of his unhappiness with this whole situation.
The only one not responding at all was Bodhi. He merely stared at her. She glanced at each of us before finally bringing her cool gaze to rest on me. The amused smile on her lips flickered, then dimmed before she sighed.
“I suppose it would have been a great deal to just assume you would be pleased with my presence.”
“I am neither pleased nor displeased.” Not every occasion called for blunt honesty. This one did. “I am, however, in possession of a great many questions.”
“Then come and sit with me, darling girl, and we’ll talk. Also that dress is absolutely beautiful on you.”
“Thank you.” I ignored the hand she held out to me. “I’m also fine with standing. I haven’t decided whether I’m staying for the rest of this or not.”
Margareta sighed for real and it lacked any of the teasing hints of affect. There was real regret in her eyes. It was the first genuine sign of regret I could recall tracking from her. Normally, she played it much closer to the vest, not betraying any emotion.
So why would she have…
“Oh.”
It hit me and our gazes locked all at once.
Her smile grew a little sadder. “You really are gifted.”
Brushing aside the praise, I studied her. “Who knows?”
I could almost feel the question Ezra wasn’t asking. Adam’s fierce frown came into view as he and Milo joined the four of us and we stood in a semi-circle in front of Mrs. Waldemar.
“Not as many as you might think. I learned a long time ago that ingrained misogyny and chivalry aren’t too far apart.”
“Son of a bitch,” Adam muttered. I didn’t glance at him. He had to have guessed, just like I did.
“It’s not just being the power behind the throne, you are the throne. Everyone else is the window dressing.”
Margareta raised her wine glass. “People see what they want to see. In a bratva, they want powerful men with dark scowls and mysterious motives. As for me? I’m merely a hostess. A wealthy widow. A philanthropist.”
I tossed back the glass of wine like it was the whiskey that Adam had ordered.
“If you were curious, yes, the Mikhailskaya was once my husband’s—well, part of it was. I’ve grown it considerably since he died. The men who report to me are good, honorable, and they do good work.”
“But you are still the pakhan,” I said, testing the term.
“Or I can just be Margareta. You and I could be friends, Lainey.”
“Why?” Bodhi asked, the question landing into the silence with a crack like a gunshot.
“For a great many reasons, Mr. Cavendish, not all of which you’ve earned the right to know or even ask me. Rather than play this game of two steps forward and one step back, let’s address directly the reason you were invited here tonight.”
My heart fisted in my chest.
“Andrea?”
Chapter
Thirty
ADAM
Margareta Waldemar. At this point, I wasn’t entirely certain if I should be impressed or infuriated. The woman turned up everywhere. Since discovering her connection to King—he killed her son—and how it related to her interest in the rest of us, I’d been wary.
