She elbows me in the side and then grabs my hand. Her fingers wrap around mine like they were made for that very thing, and I ignore the flutter in my chest. “How… how did you – how the hell did you get a reservation? This place is always booked for months in advance.”
“I pulled a few strings.” Truthfully, I paid an obscene amount of money.
At that very moment, the hostess appears—a blonde woman with drawn on eyebrows and unnaturally poofy hair. “Mr. and Mrs. Volkov. This way, please.”
The wedding descended into chaos before the minister could announce us as “Mr. and Mrs. Volkov,” so when the hostess says it, I’m momentarily taken aback. It sounds strange. But also normal. If Eve is surprised by it, as well, she doesn’t react. She keeps a firm grip on my hand and pulls me deeper into th
