She touches Adrian’s arm as she speaks, and he continues smiling, obviously enjoying the gesture.

Yan follows my field of vision, then mutters, “Fuck.”

“Who is she?” I murmur, my tongue heavy in my throat.

“You don’t need to know.”

“Is that the reason your boss wants me away from here?”

Yan’s lack of words is the only answer I need. I don’t know what I’m thinking when I shove away from him and march toward them. If anything, it’s like I’m not thinking at all.

Yan calls after me, but I’m faster, barging through people and getting cursed a thousand times.

There’s been a burn in my chest ever since I saw Adrian with that woman. I don’t know if it’s because he never takes me out, yet he accompanied her to a grand opening, or because he’s smiling at her and never does at me.

Or because he stood me up tonight for her.

It’s probably all of the above.

I stop right in front of them. Adrian stares down at me like I’m a stranger he’s meeting for the first time.

Worse. It’s like I’m a rock in his shoe.

“Excuse me?” the blonde asks, and her voice is as soft and classy as she is.

I glare up at him. “Explain this.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Adrian’s cold, harsh words stab me deeper than anything ever has.

An elderly man joins our circle. His features are solemn and he speaks with a Russian accent, “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know, Papa.” The blonde stares between me and Adrian. “This woman came out of nowhere.”

The elderly man, her father, watches me with a critical eye, all while I stare speechless at Adrian, trying to figure out what the hell he just said.

It must’ve been a figment of my imagination. Adrian didn’t just imply that I’m a stranger in front of his date.

“Do you know her, Volkov?” the man asks.

“No.” Adrian doesn’t look at me, his voice casual.

If I thought his earlier words hurt, these ones cut so deep, I feel the knife digging inside. The bridge I felt forming between us this morning dissolves into thin air.

Yan finally catches up to me and tries to pull me back by my wrist. I snap out of my daze, attempting to wiggle away. “That’s not—”

“Throw her out,” Adrian says to Yan, jabbing the knife deeper.

The old man looks at me again. “Do you know my daughter’s fiancé, young lady?”

I freeze.

Did he just say his daughter’s fiancé?

My gaze shifts from him to his daughter’s questioning eyes and then back to Adrian’s cold gray ones, and the only answer I can give under the circumstances tumbles from my throat, “No.”

And with that, I let Yan drag me out.

I’m too stunned, too shocked, to move on my own, so I follow his steps mindlessly.

“You should’ve come with me the first time,” Yan mutters under his breath.

Maybe so, but if I had, I wouldn’t have been shaken by this wake-up call.

Adrian has a fiancée. All blonde and beautiful and Russian.

I was only a game to him all this time.

20

Adrian

It takes all of my self-restraint not to watch as Yan drags a half-dazed Lia out of the venue.

If I do, if I look at her, I’ll be tempted to go after her, and that’s the most foolish thing I could do under the circumstances.

By the time Boris informed me she was here, thanks to that fucker Matt, who’s a close associate of the brotherhood, I barely had time to tell Yan to get her out.

That plan was obviously a clusterfuck since she came to me as if she had every right to be by my side.

She doesn’t.

Even though I don’t stare at her, Igor and his daughter, my fiancée, Kristina, do, both measuring her up until she disappears with Yan.

Igor’s attention finally comes back to me, his face hard. “Do I need an explanation, Volkov?”

“No,” I speak with an ease I don’t feel.

“Good. Because I won’t allow you to disrespect my daughter.”

I nod in a show of respect, but he doesn’t nod back as he turns around and leaves.

Kristina continues to stare at me, then at the door through which Lia left, her face remaining as emotionless as her father’s. As a mafia princess, she was born ready to be married within the brotherhood. Pretty and flawless, Kristina’s role in life is to bring honor to her father and become the obedient wife.

When Sergei suggested this alliance a year ago, I didn’t see why not, especially since Igor and his brigade are surrounded by a high wall no one can penetrate. I thought this would bring me closer to his methodical reign.

If I had to marry one day, Kristina seemed like the safest and most logical choice.

I can see the doubts on her face, but she doesn’t voice them. She wasn’t raised to. For Kristina, being the obedient wife is everything that matters.

Unlike my Lenochka, whose feelings are usually written all over her face, Kristina’s are locked under a makeshift façade.

“If you’re keeping her as a mistress, let me know.” She fakes a smile. “Have a lovely night.”

And with that, she turns and leaves as if nothing happened.

It takes everything I have to continue with the dull event. While I loathe the empty socializing these parties are all about, I need the networking and information they provide.

However, it’s hard—almost impossible—to concentrate when I recall the shock and hurt in those blue eyes. Conjuring those emotions in her was everything that I initially strived for, but now it feels like a rusty knife in my gut.

After some thirty minutes of mindless talking to influential men whose only worth is their networks, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I excuse myself and check it.

Yan: She’s in the apartment.

I should take it out on him for not escorting her out soon enough, but it’s pointless. I couldn’t have kept her in the dark for too long.

Adrian: Stand guard.

Yan: Got it.

The night feels like a thousand years. Lia’s ballet producer comes to talk to me, introducing the French director. He says his prima ballerina is here somewhere, but he can’t find her.