“You don’t have to,” Mikhail murmurs.
“Cillian is your business partner. I want to make a good impression. I’ll change into something easier to dance in if that’s all right with you.”
Mikhail nods. “It is.”
“You need his permission?” Cillian asks.
“She does. Natalya listens to me.”
“Ah. The man of the house and the submissive housewife.”
“It works for us.” Mikhail lifts his arm off my shoulder. “You can go change. Something easier to dance in but nothing too revealing.”
“You don’t want her to show off her body? When I saw Swan Lake, I couldn’t help but notice all the little outfits the women wore. I’m sure she’s used to showing off her body.”
My mind goes back to the orgy and how Mikhail literally exposed me to a room full of people.
“It’s respectable clothing,” Mikhail says. “It may be small costumes but they’re still not revealing.”
“I understand.” Cillian’s eyes gleam like there’s more he wants to say but he’s holding back. “So, there’s no way Natalya will dance naked for us?” There’s an awkward pause before Cillian laughs and his men join in.
Mikhail’s face turns to stone. “No. That will not be happening.”
“Lighten up, Mikhail. I was just making a joke. Of course she’s not going to do that. I never expected that to happen.”
“Natalya, go change.”
Slowly, I leave the room and hurry upstairs. I’m not sure I want to go back down there but Mikhail will expect it and so willCillian and Mikhail wants to impress Cillian tonight. He needs this partnership to take down Nico so he can then take down my uncle, which means I need this to work tonight too.
Since Mikhail never bought any pants or leggings for me, I have to settle with a simple summer dress and pantyhose. At least the pantyhose will help cover my underwear. I doubt Mikhail will appreciate me flashing his guests. Tonight isn’t about sex or pushing boundaries. It’s about making connections. He wants me to be the respectable trophy wife, not the sex kitten.
The white swan and not the black one.
After changing, I take a deep breath and head back downstairs.
The conversation between the men stops as they all turn to look at me.
“Where should I dance” I ask, gripping my hands together to stop myself from shaking.
“The middle of the room,” Mikhail says.
My feet don’t make any sound on the rug as I place myself in the center of the room for all the men to look at me. I’m used to being on stage, performing for a crowd. Normally, I love it. It’s exciting and life changing. It’s something I was addicted to.
But now, this doesn’t feel exciting. It does feel life changing however, not in the way I’m used to. This feels like if I do the wrong step at any moment, the tentative alliance between my husband and Cillian could crumble. There’s much more at stake here than just a performance.
“You need music,” Cillian says. “You can’t dance without music.”
“You can,” I correct him. He narrows his eyes and I quickly scramble. “But music does make it better.”
Mikhail nods at one of his men. “I have an album with Tchaikovsky. He composed Swan Lake.”
“Ah. A Russian composer. How fitting for you.”
“You don’t like Russian music?” I ask.
Cillian shrugs. “I much prefer Irish music.”
Mikhail’s man finds the album on vinyl and puts it on. The music swells through the room. It’s music I’ve danced to a hundred times by now.
