twins were, they had subtle differences. One was a bit shorter, if only by a half an inch. The other had a habit of cocking her eyebrow even when she didn’t realize she was doing it. And their voices—they each had their own unique sound.
That, however, was about as far as it went.
“Black and gold are great,” Violet said, “if this was going to be a huge event in a giant hall that needed an entire overhaul to fit the day, but it’s not.”
Nika pouted—Dina scowled.
“And black is … dark,” Violet settled on saying.
“Black is classy,” Dina shot back.
“Elegant,” Nika put in.
Violet sighed, knowing she should pick her battles wisely, and chose to go a different route. “What colors would your mother enjoy?”
Both twins perked at that question.
“Cream, probably,” Nika said.
Dina only nodded in agreement.
Violet could do cream. “Black and cream, then.”
She barely even got the sentence out of her mouth, and the twins were already spinning on their heels. Dina went straight back to the displays of linens, and Nika headed for the centerpiece display.
It was going to be a long day.
She liked the Markovic twins, to be sure, but she hadn’t quite realized how much effort went into planning even a small event, never mind with a pair of twin hellions determined to break their brother’s credit card.
Violet shook her head, knowing the twins probably wouldn’t even hear her as she said, “I’m going to step outside for a minute and ... get something from the car.”
Or take a break.
Yes, a break sounded perfect.
As she suspected, neither of the twins said a thing in response.
Violet left the boutique with her head down, already digging through her purse to find her cell phone that had probably fallen to the very bottom. Her hand had just grabbed a hold of the device as she bumped straight into a hard, tall form.
She didn’t know why, but she knew who it was without even looking up. Maybe it was because of the way his pocket-handkerchief folded into three peaks when most people just chose a simple square. Maybe it was the familiar cologne he wore and had used for the majority of her life.
Or maybe it was his chuckles at her lack of attention.
Soft and amused, but still unsurprised and dry.
Her father.
“Violet,” Alberto murmured.
Instinctively, Violet took a giant step back as her head snapped up to stare her father straight in the face. Old habits were hard to break, and that was never more evident than when she replied, “Hello, Daddy.”
But even as she spoke, Violet was looking for a way out of the situation. She glanced back at the boutique she’d just left, knowing damn well two very important people inside needed to stay there, out of sight and safe from whatever might happen next. It wasn’t an option to draw attention to the twins, so she couldn’t go back inside. Her car was parked alongside the street just a few spots down from where her father stood, but she was pretty damn sure her father wasn’t going to just let her pass.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Alberto asked, lifting a hand toward the sky.
Snowflakes drifted down slowly around them.
It felt like time slowed for that split second.
“It’s cold,” Violet finally said.
What else could she say?
Alberto’s sharp gaze swept the street, down beyond Violet’s spot, then to the side, and after he had looked across the street, his attention was back on her. “How was Chicago, topina?”
Little mouse.
He’d called her that for years. More than she cared to count.
But it didn’t quite feel the same.
Violet chose not to answer, as his question felt like bait, and she wouldn’t be the fool who got stuck on that proverbial hook.
Alberto didn’t seem to mind. “Your … Russian has quite a way about him, doesn’t he?”
She did blink that time, unsure of what Alberto was implying. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Holding up a hand, her father ticked off fingers.
One, then two, three, four, five, and finally, the sixth on his other hand.
“Six,” he said quietly.
Violet forced back the lump in her throat. “I don’t under—”
“I don’t expect you to,” Alberto interrupted, sharper than before. “If there was anything I tried to do as your father—being who I was in the position that I was—it was making sure your head was thoroughly buried in the sand when it came to business. You didn’t need to understand or see, don’t you understand? It would do no man any good to have a wife who was a