Lev moves his glare to his sister, which makes her roll her eyes.
“Just tell her you didn’t mean to insult her. They have a nice apartment here. You’re being rude.”
Lev’s jaw tightens as he steps closer to Max. “I’m not insulting your apartment.”
“Don’t you think the person being insulted gets to determine that?”
“Who is the man downstairs?” I ask before the vein in Lev’s neck actually bursts.
Maxine knows as well as I do that we do not live in a good neighborhood. But it’s ours, and she won’t allow anyone to make her feel less than because of where we live.
Not even the Russian mafia, apparently.
“He’s one of mine. He’ll stay out of your way. Nicolette will let me know when she’s done so I can come get her.”
“Or she can just ride back in Adam’s car,” Nicolette mutters under her breath.
“We’ll have to set up in the kitchen,” Adam announces, with impeccable timing.
“Let’s get these covers off the racks so we can get down to business.” Nicolette spins away from us and gets to work.
Lev’s jaw works beneath the thick stubble. He’s either trying to come up with some scathing remark to level Maxine with, or he’s trying not say something that will further insult her.
“I have to go. Call me when you’re done.” He turns on his booted heel and stomps out of the apartment.
“Well, wasn’t he a joy.” Max frowns.
“Sorry about him. He can be a real asshole sometimes. Especially when he’s getting all protective.” Nicolette scratches behind Marion’s ear. “You really do have a nice apartment. It’s cozy.”
I laugh. “It’s a shoebox.”
Her cheeks tint.
“Thank you though.” I touch her arm. “I assume me turning down the dresses and make up and all isn’t an option?”
Now she laughs. “I’ve only met Ivan a handful of times, but I didn’t get the impression that he’s a man who would be happy to have his gifts returned.”
“Gifts?” My throat dries.
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Lev got all rude before I could explain everything.” She stands between the two racks, one filled with dresses and the other with slacks, shirts, and jackets. “This is all yours. We only need to choose which dress for tonight. The rest are to go directly into your closet.”
“My closet.”
“Holy shit.” Max drops Marion on the couch and starts looking through the clothes. “Vee, there’s a Versace tag on this dress.”
When I turn my shock on Nicolette, she’s beaming with excitement. “That one is my favorite, but I don’t think it’s good for tonight. Too many buttons.”
“Too many buttons?” I’m speechless as she leads me over to the rack filled with designer dresses.
The second rack is more of the same, but more casual.
“For tonight, I think this one.” She pulls a one-shouldered, black, silk crepe dress from among the dozen contenders. “It will be perfect on you; you have the hips for it.”
Instinctively, I press my hands to my hips.
“It’s a hellava lot better than the black dress you were going to wear,” Max says, sidling up next to me to stare at the beautiful gown Nicolette holds out to me.
“Are those diamonds?” I lean forward to inspect the glittering jewels sewn into the sculpted, twist-cinched waist.
