SAMPLE ONLY - FULL BOOK AVAILABLE ON AMAZON

chapter e i g h t e e n

"Hatred stirs up conflict, but love covers over all wrongs."
—‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭10:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

KATERINA YAWNED AS WE stumbled out of the car and onto the pavement. A doorman had already rushed out of the apartment building, with two umbrellas in hand. My suitcase rolled behind me, Katerina's duffel slung over my shoulder despite her tired insistence on her own ability to carry a simple bag. It was, in fact not a simple bag but a rather heavy one, weighted down with God knew what. Likely clothes and feminine items that women managed to accumulate as easily as birds built nests.

The doorman reached us where we were standing beneath the awning, and offered Katerina the first umbrella, then me the second. Before I could make any move to take it, Katerina opened hers and tugged on my arm.

"Let him take that one," she whispered before slipping him a dollar bill with her free hand.

I nodded, too stunned by the feeling of her delicate hand resting on my forearm to do anything but take the proffered umbrella. We made our way down the rain-dampened walkway arm in arm. The ground was riddled with puddles, and I had to elbow Katerina awake to keep her from stepping in them. She had the most irritating—yet adorable—habit of falling asleep on my shoulder even as we were in motion. Finally, without either of us falling into a puddle or getting too wet, we managed to make it into the apartment building.

I placed the umbrella in its stand by the door, giving the doorman a small grin. He displayed his shock to the extent that he stumbled back into the umbrella stand, knocking it over. Immediately, I grimaced. Was I really so coarse typically that a small act of courtesy provoked such a reaction? A giggle from Katerina affirmed that thought.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone so surprised," she gasped out between fits of laughter. "And by a smile, of all things!"

I elbowed her again, for lighthearted reasons rather than practical ones. Katerina clutched her side as though in agonizing pain. "I have been mortally wounded," she joked.

"I'm sure you're fine," I countered even as I put my arm around her, spinning her around to probe her side for a bruise or tenderness.

She winced and pulled away, her face falling for a moment, and I realized that it had been a mask all along. Just as I put on my facade of rudeness, of anger and insults, hers was one of cheeriness, of extreme elation and generally someone who was enjoyable to be around. We were opposites—yet more similar than I had realized.

I didn't need to ask her if something was wrong. I shouldn't have. We'd left my mother's house—no one was watching us—I didn't need to pretend. But it didn't feel like pretending.

"Kati, are you o—"

"Katerina!" Abigail, her hair a bright flash of red against the plain khaki of her trench coat and the navy wool of her scarf, appeared in the lobby and made a beeline for us. "Alex! You're back."

Before I could separate myself from my fiancée to move towards my sister, she had embraced us both in a strangling hug. We managed to extricate ourselves with minimal damages to either of our rib cages, fortunately, and Abigail wore a jubilant—yet worrisome—look on her face. "It's good that you two are here now. You're right on time!"

"Right on time for what?" A frown that looked more suited to my face than hers furrowed Katerina's eyebrows.

"The engagement party, of course!" Abigail tugged us towards the lifts before we could properly absorb the information that had just been unloaded onto us. "I hope my mother fulfilled her end of the bargain and got you a terrific dress for the party, Katerina. And as for you, brother dearest, you had better act at least civil. Be within an arm's length of your fiancée unless there is some emergency that involves fire and blood."

"Abigail, I do think you're being a little bit extreme—" Katerina began as my youngest sister pressed the button for the penthouse.

"Nonsense. Only the crème de la crème of New York will be there, you have to look your best as well as like a happy, well-functioning couple," Abby chattered, untying her scarf and looping it over her arm.

"That's impossible," I deadpanned, drumming my fingers against my pant leg. "No one would believe us."

My sister fixed an icy glare on me that informed otherwise skeptical strangers we were related. "Then I suppose you'll have to make them."

+

A PYRAMID OF CHAMPAGNE flutes had been formed on a red cloth-draped table, competing with the chandeliers for the most eye-catching display of glass and gold. On the edges of the dance floor, couples were clustered together waiting for the music to start, men's suits in hues of navy or black or gray contrasting with their partners' bright silk and sequinned dresses. Quiet whispers of the party guests rose in volume as I made my way past them, but I ignored the talk as easily as I did the turmoil of emotions inside me. Where was Katerina? Not that I wanted to see her—only that we had reached some sort of peace. Only that I needed her, Abigail would likely murder me if I wasn't spotted with my fiancée.

Although, on the dance floor, seeming blissfully unaware of anyone else, my sister was wrapped in the arms of the same prince she had brought to dinner the other week. I was trying and failing to remember exactly which country he was ruler-to-be of, when a clinking noise startled me. Every guest's attention turned to the front of the room, where my father stood, holding a champagne flute and a teaspoon.

"Good evening." His booming voice rang out in the ballroom, cutting through the buzz of gossip. "Thank you all for being here to celebrate the engagement of my son to the daughter of my late business rival, Pierre Devereaux." He paused; it was enough time for Abigail to separate from her beau and send me a pointed look, mouthing arms' length. I couldn't find Katerina, and was about to point that out to her when suddenly my fiancée appeared at the door. "And there she is now." My father gave a hearty, false chuckle, causing everyone in the room to laugh with him—not out of real appreciation for his humour, but out of fear. There was a pecking order, and Aaron Steele was at the top. "A toast!"

Everyone raised their champagne glasses in sync, myself included. Katerina quickly snatched one from a waiter and made her way to my side, lifting her drink up as well.

"To my son and my future daughter-in-law. May they have a long, and happy life together!"

Everyone echoed him, little murmurs springing up around the room along with the clicking of glass on glass. But my father wasn't done yet.

"And they will lead the first dance!"

Katerina and I shot each other panicked looks—matching for once. I could dance reasonably well, having learned from being many a young lady's reluctant partner at cotillion, but I had no idea if she could. It was too late to worry about how uncoordinated either of us were, however, when the music started.

Lovely strains of violin and cello from the string quartet melded together in my ears, as I held out my hand to her with a nervous swallow, and she took it. You cannot show fear, I reminded myself. The vulture-like matrons of New York society are all around you, waiting to foist their daughters on you at the first sign of weakness. The thought almost made me laugh, tugging my lips up at the edges. Katerina gave me a smile in return, though she surely had no idea what exactly I found so humorous.

My free hand I rested firmly on her waist; hers she trailed up my arm until it rested on my shoulder. We were close enough that I could see the freckle next to her nose, feel the heat radiating off of her slender form as though her scarlet gown were real fire. We moved together, in slow, clumsy steps. It wasn't perfect by any means; the pointed toe of her shoe poked my ankle, and I nearly stepped on her foot. There was no magical transformation; none of the worry that was weighing on me had disappeared. I could still catch a glimpse of what anxiety plagued her too, behind the beautiful mask and blank smile. This dance wasn't perfect, wasn't some kind of cure-all like the movies made it out to be. It didn't turn a fake love into a real one.

But for one moment, one achingly exquisite moment, I no longer felt alone.