Maria
"So, this is the one your brother picked."
"My name is Darya Kuznetsov." A tall, bleached blonde in a tight gold gown looks me over. "Dima's wife."
She pauses and waits for me to comment, but I don't. Dima? Why does that sound familiar?
"He's around, talking to the men," Darya continues as she c***s an eyebrow. "How old are you, girl?"
"I'm eighteen." I try hard not to stare at her huge breasts, but she's wearing heels that put them right at eye level, and she radiates b***h energy.
"Best stay away from my Dima." Darya laughs, her voice shrill and sharp. But her eyes betray no humor, and when she stares, I can see the hate in them. "I told that neryakha that I was twenty when he came to talk to me. One look at you, and he'll know I lied."
I clutch the stem of my glass and pull
