The Darkest Temptation - Danielle Lori Page 0,146

now.

“When are you due?” I asked.

“Three weeks, but I have a feeling he’s never going to come out. When I get home tomorrow, I need to start doing yoga.” She sighed as if the thought put her out. “But that’s probably not going to happen because I’ve been excommunicated from my studio, and I’ve never been good at motivating myself.”

“Surely, there’s more than one yoga studio in New York City.”

She frowned. “I guess I should have said I’ve been excommunicated from all the studios.”

“Oh . . .”

After a short pause, we both laughed again.

Gianna radiated warmth, and I already felt lighter, but any chance of a better mood crashed and burned when a familiar sultry voice entered the equation.

“I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

Slowly, I slid my gaze to the doorway to see Nadia in the flesh. Her black hair was clipped to one side in a sleek wave that reached her waist. Dark red lips. Kohled eyes. She wore a nude wrap dress beneath a long mink coat. I wondered if Ronan had bought it for her. The idea wrenched my stomach, threatening to expel the single grape inside.

The opera singer was gorgeous, exuding sex from every pore. She was the kind of woman all women compared themselves to. A look at her made one feel lacking on impact. Why would Ronan spare me a glance when this woman was around? I rejected the thought just as fast as my new family rejected me.

Je suis parfaite comme je suis. Tu es parfaite comme tu es. Nous sommes parfaites comme nous sommes. I am perfect as I am. You are perfect as you are. We are perfect as we are.

Feeling the French work its magic, I pulled my gaze to Gianna just in time to see her roll her eyes. “Of course not, Nadia. It seems you’ve been cordially invited in anyway.”

Noticing the sarcasm in her voice, I finally spotted Pavel standing behind Nadia. He shifted uncomfortably. Clearly, Nadia wasn’t supposed to be here, but it seemed he didn’t know how to remove her. He was taller than her even though she wore five-inch stilettos, so, clearly, his turmoil was an emotional battle and not a physical one.

“Oh, good,” Nadia said with a charming Russian accent, waltzing toward us. “I do not know how I forget how long the drive here is every time.” She pursed her lips. “Though usually, I am not alone, and I do think they say time flies when you are having fun.”

I was going to vomit.

Literally.

I wouldn’t compare myself to her, but I still couldn’t stomach the thought of her hands on Ronan. Or his on her. The idea dropped a boulder on my chest. The urge to get up and walk out seared my every nerve, but doing so would only let Nadia win, so I forced myself to remain.

Nadia pulled off her extravagant fur coat, set it on the back of the chair next to mine, and sat, crossing her legs like a queen. A small gift box fell out of her coat to the floor.

Gianna raised a brow. “Have I missed someone’s birthday?”

Nadia laughed. “No. I saw something at the store and thought of Ronan, so I just had to buy it.”

“Well, don’t leave us in suspense,” Gianna said.

“Oh. Okay.” Her tone implied she was being pressured into telling us when it was clear she was desperate to share. “Do not tell him, but it is a Louis Vuitton scarf with vintage frayed ends,” she announced proudly.

We both stared at her. The only thing Ronan would do with a scarf was strangle someone with it.

“Wow,” Gianna deadpanned. “I am positive he will love it.”

Nadia smiled before saying, “God, I am famished.” Without another word, she began to load her plate with the bliny that weren’t rainbow-colored, apparently oblivious to the tension in the air.

“So what brings you here, Nadia, other than to give gifts?” Gianna sipped her tea. “I’m sure your French cook is just as good as Polina.”

Nadia’s perfect brows furrowed in concern. “I came to check on Ronan after what happened yesterday. I cannot believe that boy had the nerve to shoot him.” Then she added flippantly, “Though we all know it was Alexei who hired him.” Aloof, she rubbed a liberal amount of butter on her pancakes.

I stared at her impassively even as her words stomped on my heart: the fact my papa was the one who indirectly shot Ronan, and the inexplicable detail Nadia had been with

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