Svetlana gasped as she remembered the last time she’d seen the ring on the hand of Alexandra, empress of all Russia. “It can’t be.”
“Isn’t it exquisite? The cost of smuggling it from Yekaterinburg was beyond reckoning, but I consider it mere kopeks to grace the hand of the most magnificent woman in my life.”
Chills sprayed across her flesh. Yekaterinburg was where the imperial family had been imprisoned and executed. She stared at the ring in horror, imagining stains of blood as it was pried from the lifeless finger of the tsarina. And now this man wished to place it on her finger. Wynn was right—had been right all along. She never should have trusted Sheremetev.
“No,” she whispered, backing toward the door. Her faltering footsteps were swallowed in the plush carpets.
“The prestigious name of Sheremetev and the noble bloodline of Dalsky. As my wife you will continue to dance here, drawing in crowds from all over to witness the splendid swan you are while their money is easily parted from them at my gambling tables. Think of the power we will wield together as the new king and queen of Paris.”
“I see. Disappointed that you cannot grab a dowry from me, poor as I am, you wish to draw funds from me another way—by presenting me onstage every evening in your seedy club. A dancing milch cow. You have ripped the beauty from my dance and twisted it into something ugly and sordid.”
Box held out to her, he followed. “There is no need to be crass. Cow, indeed. I would not make this offer to you if you were not the most striking woman I have ever seen, and I do enjoy being surrounded by beautiful things. You will be the most glorious gem in my crowning achievements, and what better than to collect a gem that pays dividends?”
“You never intended to introduce me to Diaghilev, did you?” What a fool she’d been to believe the lie, but her hope had been so wasted that she couldn’t help clinging to the one sprig of dangled happiness. More than anything, she’d been a fool to believe she could pay back the debt with no strings attached. “I have no desire to be an ornament for anyone’s crown, and I most certainly do not and will not stay in this place a minute longer.” The doorknob jammed into her back.
“You may run, but you do not have a choice in this matter. I will catch you, make no mistake. If you proceed to be difficult, those men with the red armbands will take great pleasure in learning who you truly are. A firing squad will be the least of your troubles compared to what they will do to you. And your sister and your mother.”
“You are a monster.”
Quick as a snake, he grabbed her chin and squeezed. His eyes receded farther into the bags of skin, cutting them to mere slits. “I am a man who gets what he wants. By whatever means necessary. You belong to me.”
“No.” She fumbled for the door handle.
He squeezed harder, his breath sour in her face. “Svetlana, my Ice Swan, my princess. You
Chapter 14
She was the most exquisite creature Wynn had ever beheld. Svetlana spun across the White Bear’s floor, every step and line of her body a sweep of elegance that held him mesmerized. He braced an arm against the back wall as his heart nearly thudded from his chest. Her shell had cracked off to reveal the breathtaking life within, and he felt sole witness to its emergence.
When she twirled to a stop and dipped into a deep curtsy on a cloud of feathers, applause exploded around him. The spell broke and suddenly he was surrounded by people once more.
Her movements stilled, he saw her face. A black lace mask hid most of it, but not enough to obscure the whiteness of her lips and clenching of her jaw. Not a look he expected after hearing her describe what dance did to her. Then again, she carried the weight of a thousand worries on her slim shoulders. If he could help relieve merely one of them, he would.
She disappeared behind the stage, and Wynn edged his way through the throng of patrons clamoring to the dance floor as the band swung into a more lively tune. Several of the familiars spotted him and waved to get his attention. Wynn ignored them. He was in no mood for goiters or suspicious bunions tonight.
“Mac!” Leonid’s voice cut through the cigarette haze.
Wynn followed the sound and spotted his friend standing at the far side of the room next to an empty booth. He weaved his way over.
“Good to see you, but I can’t stop. I came to see Svetlana.”
“She changing. We wait here.” Leonid slid into the red cushioned booth and gestured for Wynn to do the same. “Her I walk home. She find me.”