It's been a week since Calista's wedding and I have been so worried that the Russians would come and ruin everything but I guess it's just my anxiety talking.
Richie and I are going on a dinner date, and I'm adding my final touches. I look at my reflection one last time before heading out of the room. I'm wearing a black cocktail dress Marta recently designed for me. It's beautiful and fits like a glove, hugging in the right places. It's an off-shoulder gown, so it's wrapped around my shoulders, showing my neck, which I top up with a simple Cartier necklace. I step into a pair of black heels, grab my purse, and then head out of the room.
Walking down the stairs, I see Richie pacing around in the living room. "Yes... yes, of course. That will not be happening," Richie says, talking on the
