Chapter 2 – Ravyn
My manicured fingers wrapped around the slender tube of lipstick, my thumb rotating the base with a soft click. With my lips parted slightly, I leaned in, applying a final precise stroke of color—a faint shade of red.
I jerked my eyes, catching the reflection of myself in the mirror, my sapphire dress glittering in the soft lights. The fabrics hugged me in the right places, accentuating my figure as I stood inches taller on a pair of black stilettos.
The young woman looking back at me shone bright like the morning star with blue eyes sparkling like diamonds.
I heaved a sigh, admiring my reflection in the mirror, my body swaying left and right, eyes drinking in the sight of my curves. I was a twenty-one-year-old plus-sized girl blessed with an amazing body in which I always found pride.
My golden blonde hair cascaded down my shoulders like a waterfall. My light makeup complemented my fair skin with a natural pink undertone that blended so seamlessly.
This was me, Ravyn Jensen, the perfect daughter that James and Harley Jensen expected me to be.
Tonight, I was all dressed up, ready to endure yet another one of those boring, tedious events my parents insisted I attend. Of course, I couldn't object; I didn't exactly have a say in that or anything else, if I'm being honest.
This was all just an act to impress them and present the perfect image befitting the family name and status. It was exhausting most of the time—doing what was expected of me rather than what I truly wanted and pretending to be okay with it.
I wasn't the timid type, was never afraid to speak my mind and express myself. But when it came down to family matters, I would often just listen to Mom and Dad because deep down, I cared about the image and status they'd built over the years.
I wanted to forge my own path, to be free from my father's world of power, wealth, and influence. However, I wasn't going to be rebellious about it. I'd figure something out sooner or later.
But for now, their roof, their rules.
My lips curled into a plastic smile that looked as genuine as they came, a skill I'd honed over the years from attending galas and social events like the one for tonight. These gatherings were nothing but a performance—a meticulously choreographed dance of fake smiles, forced conversations, and a desperate need for escape.
Oh, what another joyful night of playing dress up and pretending to be interested in people I didn't know and might never run into again.
I grabbed my purse from the bed and strode out of the room, my heels clicking against the floor.
“Oh, my God, she's gonna be the death of me,” Dad grumbled, glancing at his gold-plated watch as he paced the living room.
“Would you relax? She's getting ready,” Mom said, sitting on a sofa with her legs crossed. A hint of amusement crept into her tone.
“We’re late, Harley,” he replied, stopping in his tracks, his voice dripping with urgency.
“I'm ready,” I announced from the head of the steps where I'd been standing for the past few seconds.
“Oh, finally! Thank God,” Dad said, relief lacing his tone as he jerked his head toward my direction.
Dad's gaze lingered on me, his brows rising as his expression softened. It was as though his little annoyance at my slight delay had dissipated the moment he saw me. He buried his hands in his pocket, his white tux complementing his hair and beard.
His name should have been “White,” considering his love for the color, as virtually everything about him was always white. Most of his clothes were white, and his cars were also white, as was the living room and his master bedroom.
Mom rose to her feet, her gaze fixed on me and lips curving into a smile. Her blonde hair was styled into a bun and piled on top of her head. Her black gown simmered in the lights, the tiny pearls that adorned it glittering like diamonds.
“You look amazing, sweetheart,” she complimented, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Thanks, Mom,” I replied, my cheeks flushing at her remark as I descended the stairs.
Dad adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, a finger tugging at the bridge. “You look lovely,” he said, and without leaving any room for my response, he added. “Now, can we get going?” He led the way, heading toward the front door.
Mom and I exchanged glances, giggling softly as we followed up behind him.
The drive was about thirty minutes long, but eventually, we got to the penthouse. I had no idea what or who was being celebrated; all I knew was that I was here to mingle with the society elites.
Mom and Dad had deluded themselves into believing that the reason they always insisted I tag along for occasions like this was to provide networking opportunities. But that wasn't the truth. It was a masquerade to hide the real reason: They were using my presence as a symbol of the family's perfection.
They had a reputation to protect, and I was the immaculate and refined tool they could flaunt. It was a real piece of work, living up to their standards, playing the role of the exquisite and ideal daughter. Spotless.
The opulent space was already filled with the who’s who of high society, the wealthy and influential. A good number of these people were nothing but crooks and criminals, masquerading as humanitarians and philanthropists.
Foes and allies alike mingled, chattering with plastic smiles as though they wouldn't turn around and stab one another in the back once they got the chance. This hypocrisy was one of the many reasons I loathed events like this; it was really just a gathering of wolves in sheep's clothing. Nothing more, nothing less.
This was the part where I would join in the hypocrisy, smiling and waving at folks that I didn't give two shits about.
Cool jazz music wafted through the air, performed by a live band on a raised platform. The sweet aroma of champagne blended with the scents of different colognes and perfumes, adding to the sophistication of the space.
Warm glows from hanging chandeliers illuminated the guests, whose elegant dresses and tuxes simmered in the lights. Soft murmurs of conversations weaved in and out of the jazz rhythms, creating a serene and intimate atmosphere.
“Ah, Mr. Jensen, what a pleasant surprise,” a deep, hoarse voice caught my attention.
I turned toward the speaker, watching the black-suited man approaching us. He was nearly as old as my Dad, with a bald head and facial hair. He was a portly man with a mean face and a scar that resembled a cut over his left eye.
“Mr. Fisher,” Dad greeted with a smile as he halted in front of us. “How long has it been since we last saw each other?”
Fisher laughed, throwing his head back. “So long, my friend.” He extended a hand, and Dad shook it. “You look well.”
“As do you,” Dad replied.
“Mrs. Jensen, still as radiant as always,” Fisher said, kissing Mom's hand with a sketched bow.
Mom's response was a bright smile, her lips parting in elegance. I steeled myself, ready for an introduction, considering that this man's face was unfamiliar. Not like I'd remember him after tonight, anyway.
“Mr. Fisher, you remember our daughter, right?” Dad's voice cut through my thoughts, returning me to the present.
My gaze met with his, and in the depths of those piercing green eyes was a glint of infatuation, a really disturbing one. With a discreet move, he checked me out, his eyes roaming my body as he reached to take my hand.
I grimaced inwardly, struggling not to show my disgust, but my expression faltered, my face twisted in distaste.
“My, my, my,” Fisher said, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he took my hand, his lips pressed against the back of my fingers.
I felt a pang of irritation within me, my lips curling into a subtle snarl.
“The last time I saw you, you were just a child,” he continued, clicking his tongue, amusement flickering in those eyes that wandered around my body. “Now, look at you…ripe in all the right places.”
A faint scowl flashed across my face, mirroring my displeasure, repulsed by his touch.
“Okay, Mr. Fisher.” Mom laughed lightly, stepping forward to take my hand off his lips, her action deliberate yet respectful. “I think we're done here,” she said, her gaze fixed on him with a wide plastic smile on her face.
His lips twitched at the corner, and his eyes shifted across Mom and Dad’s faces in a brief moment of awkward silence. I was grateful that she came to my rescue in the nick of time, but I still couldn't understand why.
This wasn't the first time a man decades older than me had been overly nice to her daughter. However, something about Mr. Fisher seemed to have awakened her protective side.
Even Dad didn't look so pleased, but he retained his grin.
“Well,” Fisher sighed, breaking the silence. “I’ll see you folks around then. Ladies.” He looked at Mom and me before tapping Dad's shoulder and walking away to mingle with the other guests.
“Thanks for the save, Mom,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “But what was that about?”
She blew a raspberry, waving a dismissive hand. “Don't worry yourself, sweetheart. It's nothing.” She beamed at me.
I knew there was more to the story, but I wasn't going to pursue it further. Perhaps they knew something dark about Mr. Fisher, and they didn't want me to get involved with him. Not to worry, though—not even in my next life would I get involved with that pervert.
Dad was attending to some of his business partners and associates, some of whom I recognized, and others I didn't. Mom was on her phone, scrolling through social media, giggling at whatever she was watching.
I let out a sigh, the inevitable boredom slowly creeping in. A waiter was strolling past me with a silver tray of champagne and canapés, and I helped myself to a flute.
As I took a sip, my gaze swept across the room and settled on a familiar face that caused my eyes to squint. I peered closer, and my brows arched in surprise as I recognized the young girl by the bar. “Tessa?” I whispered and turned to Mom. “I'll be right back.”
She was so engrossed in her phone that I wasn't sure she even heard me.
With graceful steps, I glided over to the bar where she was standing with two other girls. “Tessa O'Brian,” I called, my smile broadening.
She turned in my direction, her movement swift and fluid as though my voice had rung a bell in her head. Her dark doe eyes widened in surprise, jaw dropping in shock. “O…M…G,” she muttered the words with a deliberate slowness. “Ravyn Jensen?” She chuckled, spreading her arms.
“In the flesh.” I laughed, delighted to have bumped into her.
Tessa slipped into my embrace, our hands wrapped around each other. “Oh, my God! Look at you!” Her eyes traversed my body.
“Look at me? Look at you!” I rephrased, drinking in the sight of her gorgeous body. “You look amazing, Tess!”
“Says the girl who's glowing in elegance.” She laughed, gladness dancing in her eyes.
Tessa wasn't as tall as me, but she was just as beautiful. Her silky black hair fell loosely on her shoulder. Her full lips were a deep, rich pink, curved into a perpetual smile. Her pale skin glowed with a soft, ethereal light, and her incredible black-as-coal eyes seemed to hold a world of emotion.
“It's really good to see you again, Tess,” I said, admiring the lovely cream-colored gown that hugged her like a second skin. “How are you enjoying the party?”
“You call this a party?” Her brows yanked up in disbelief, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Please.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.
I chuckled, feeling a wind of relief wash over me. At least I wasn't the only one who thought this party was a snooze-fest. “I take it you're not having the time of your life.”
Tess snorted. “Are you kidding me? It's a nightmare.” She plucked a flute of champagne from a nearby waitress's tray and raised it in a toast. “Cheers to boredom.”
“Cheers.” I laughed lightly, clinking my glass against hers.
We sipped from our flutes, and as we caught up on old times, my eyes wandered the opulent space until I spotted him. He stood across the hall, his dark, sleepy eyes scanning the room with a chilling intensity.
His imposing height commanded my attention, his rigid frame bulging out from his impeccably black tailored suit. His dark hair was attractively unkempt, giving off a sexy appearance. He exuded confidence and a sinister aura that made my skin crawl. Something was off about him, something dark and threatening. Yet, I felt drawn to this strange man.
Next thing I knew, his cold eyes met mine, magnetically attracting me to him. I felt a shiver run down my spine, and my breath hitched in my throat. Tearing my gaze away seemed impossible, and my heart was pounding in my chest. This staring contest had me glued, inflicting me with desire and fear. He was easy on the eyes, but at the same time, he looked cold and dead. What kind of man was that, and why did I find him ridiculously attractive?
I could feel the world around us melt away as he held my gaze, his expression unreadable. The longer we stared at each other, the faster my heart beat.
“Oh, no, dear. Don't even think about it.” Tessa's voice cut through my thoughts.
Then, and only then, was I able to tear my gaze from his unsettling gaze. I glanced in her direction and realized her eyes were on the same man I was looking at.
“That's Lev Tarasov, and trust me….” She faced me, her voice dropping to a deadly warning. “He's bad news. Best to stay away.”
Why did her words have the exact opposite effect on me? Now, I found him even more irresistible.
“Word in the street is that he's the devil's advocate—a demon with ice in his veins,” she continued, her tone dripping with a mix of dread and disdain. “It is believed that he has no soul, no emotions, no conscience…just pure evil.”
I scoffed dismissively, unwilling to entertain the possibility of her claims. “Come on, Tess, don't tell you actually believe all that nonsense because it sounds like you just described Dracula,” I said, glancing back at him.
“It's not nonsense, Ravyn,” she said, looking at me. “His family has a connection to the Russian mafia.”
“Mafia?” My brows arched, mirroring my disbelief. “Do they still exist?” I returned my eyes to this irresistibly hot man who had succeeded in stealing my attention.
Tessa was further explaining herself, but I wasn't really interested in the allegations against this man, Lev Tarasov. I could sense something sinister about him, yet I couldn't stop myself from being attracted.
Chapter 3 – Lev
The soft jazz music played on, the cool melody wafting through the air as a few couples waltzed on the dance floor.
Andrey had dematerialized, following up a possible lead to help catch that son of a bitch, Arseni, leaving by myself.
A waiter glided past me, and I plucked a glass of champagne from his silver tray, eyes darting across the space. There were a lot of folks here tonight, allies and foes alike, and at least one of them would know about Arseni's whereabouts.
The bastard had eluded us for quite some time now. He'd proven to be a difficult man to find, using all the tricks he learned from us to stay hidden. However, tonight would be the night that I finally got hold of him. I was done playing hide and seek with that asshole and couldn't wait to see the look in his eyes when I caught him.
It would be fun watching him fidget, begging for mercy, but he'd get none. Arseni had bitten off more than he could chew, and now it was high time he choked.
However, despite my determination to get a hold of him, there was a little problem—the blonde girl across the room. Ravyn Jensen. I had sensed from the onset that she was going to be a distraction, and as it turned out, I wasn't wrong.
It didn't matter how many times I tried to stay focused on the mission; my mind wouldn't stop thinking about her. I'd lost count of the number of times I’d stolen glances at her, reveling in her amazing smile even though I wasn't the one she was smiling at.
I took a sip from my champagne flute, the flavors exploding on my taste buds as I dared to look in her direction again. This time, I caught her staring, and she quickly tore her gaze away as though embarrassed.
A smirk lined a corner of my lips, my gaze never leaving her form as she conversed with her friend.
Was she as drawn to me as I was to her? Was that the reason she was staring when she thought I wasn't looking?
I dug a hand into my pocket, my eyes roaming her body, drinking in the mesmerizing sight of her curves. I was starting to get seriously sidetracked by her irresistible beauty, but I couldn't help it. There was just something about her that had my eyes glued and my heart racing in my chest.
This was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, hence why I was so intrigued by it. I was curious to find out how she'd managed to catch my attention and why I felt this weird sensation in my stomach just by looking at her.
She stole yet another hidden glance at me, her finger pushing her hair to the back of her ear while still conversing with the other girl.
I didn't want to read the wrong meaning into this, but I could sense that the feeling was mutual. She was most likely feeling the same way that I was.
After a short while, I managed to tear my gaze off her, eyes darting across the room with serious intensity. Although this Ravyn girl occupied my mind, I still hadn't forgotten the reason I was here. It was possible to multitask—to watch her and keep an eye out for Arseni simultaneously.
As the night wore on, my multi-tasking plan went on just fine, and on several occasions, I locked eyes with Ravyn Jensen. I didn't realize it until now, but I had subconsciously followed her.
She moved gracefully through the crowd like she knew her way around, her demeanor exuding confidence and composure. Intermittently, she smiled and waved at onlookers as she wove through the guests like a pageant queen.
I didn't mean to follow her, but that seemed exactly what I was doing. Wherever she went, I'd find myself around that area, at least at a reasonable distance from her.
Maybe she noticed me, maybe she didn't, but I knew deep down that it was only a matter of time before our paths crossed.
She'd parted ways with her friend and was now standing by the refreshment table, eyes roaming the room with a small smile on her face. It looked like she was observing the crowd, uninterested in the events unfolding before her.
Perhaps behind the polished exterior was a girl bored out of her mind.
I should approach her and at least start a conversation rather than standing here and watching her from a distance like some creep. I could do that so easily, but a part of me wasn't done admiring her from afar. Maybe I'd approach her when I felt the time was right. But for now, I'd keep watching—unless, of course, the universe orchestrated a situation that would require me to step in.
“Oh, my God!” a deep, masculine voice exclaimed, snapping me back to the present.
Soft murmurs rose from the crowd, and my attention fell on a scene that caused my brows to arch in disbelief and shock. Was it just me, or did the universe hear my thoughts?
A young man had tripped over and accidentally spilled champagne on Ravyn's dress, hence the reason for his previous exclamation.
Ravyn's body stiffened, and she stood frozen, eyes shut, hands hanging in the air as if hoping that this hadn’t just happened. Her chest heaved slowly, fingers clenching into fists as she opened her eyes, her gaze dropping to the region around her cleavage.
“I am so sorry, ma'am,” the man apologized, his tone dripping with remorse as he looked around, searching for the means to clean up his mess.
She seethed in silence, her eyes flashing with embarrassment and annoyance as she glared at him. In her mind, she must have killed him multiple times already, judging by the amount of anger she was suppressing.
“I really am so sorry. I should’ve been more careful.” He reached out, using his palm to swipe over the dampened area, but he ended up just spreading the stain.
“You're making it worse,” she said, her voice flat, eyes simmering with a hint of vexation.
“Sorry.” He pulled away, fear etched on his face as he watched her scowl deepen. “I was just trying to….”
“Hey,” I called his attention from behind.
He turned, and the moment he saw me, his breath hitched in his throat, amplifying his fear. His throat wobbled as he swallowed hard, cold sweat dampening his forehead. Clearly, he knew who I was, and the terror of my identity had him frozen in place.
“Mr….Mr. Tarasov—I…I didn't know that…” he stuttered, hands slightly trembling. “I swear to God, I didn't mean to—”
“Beat it,” I cut him off, my voice a menacing whisper.
Without a word or a moment of hesitation, he literally ran in the opposite direction, his disappearance bringing her into view. She stood a few paces away, her eyes fixed on me, her expression softening as I approached her.
I halted in front of her, a faint grin twitching at the corner of my lips. “Are you okay?” I asked, my tone laced with a hint of concern.
“My ego's a little bruised, but I'll be fine.” She exhaled sharply, glancing down at her gown. “My dress, though…not so much.”
“Here,” I said, handing her a napkin, keeping my other hand buried in my pocket.
She hesitated for a while before accepting it without breaking eye contact. “Thanks, but I'm not sure this can fix my dress. It's…it's completely ruined,” she said, frustration creeping into her tone, her fingers massaging her temple.
Ravyn's perfume invaded my senses, and her beauty was even more pronounced up close. She was so upset, and with good reason, but somehow, she managed to remain in control of her emotions. Others would have lashed out at the young man, but she didn't. Instead, she kept her fury in check, refusing to let her anger get the better of her. Impressive.
The only hint of the turmoil within was the subtle tremble of her voice and the anger flashing in her eyes.
She couldn't walk around the party with her gown ruined, and I had a plan to help. But would she accept my proposal? Would I come off as creepy if I suggested what I had in mind?
It was harmless; however, I wasn't sure how she was going to take it. The last thing I wanted was to scare her away, but it was the only thing I could think of at the moment.
Deep down in my heart, I knew that if she accepted my proposal, tonight would take an unexpected turn. Would it be for the best or the worst?
There was only one way to find out.
“I can't fix your dress,” I admitted, watching her swipe the napkin over the dampened region of her gown. “But I can get you out of here if you'd rather not deal with…all of this.” I twirled a finger in the air, encompassing the entire awkward scene.
She raised her head, her brows arched, caught aback by my proposal. Ravyn held my gaze for a moment as if considering it, and I kept an open mind, willing to respect whatever she decided.
She looked around the room, her eyes dropping ever so slightly as she noticed the unwanted attention and the awkward stares. Ravyn went silent for a few seconds, obviously weighing her options. She could either come with me—a complete stranger—or deal with the mockery of having her dress ruined.
No pressure. No rush. I waited for her response; whatever she decided would be okay with me.
Ravyn rubbed her eyes, her shoulders slumping as she raised her head. “Where would you take me?” she asked, her tone laced with defeat, though a glimmer of defiance crept into her voice.
I was tempted to curl my lips into a smirk, but I couldn't risk coming off as a pervert. “Somewhere a little more…quiet,” I replied, my expression softening for a moment. I kept my tone mild and inviting.
She squinted, brows narrowing. Faint creases formed between them as she pinned her gaze on me like a hook to a fish. Ravyn stared at me as though she was studying my personality and/or motive. Unfortunately for her, I was a master at masking my true intentions, so she'd just have to trust me. I wasn't going to hurt her anyway.
Her eyes dropped to the floor, a million thoughts probably running through that mind of hers. Could I be trusted? Could I not be? Would I hurt her or attack her once we were out of here? Should she go with me, or should she just stay back and endure the embarrassment until the party was over?
All these were possible questions that she could be asking herself right now. I was a complete stranger, a man she'd never met or crossed paths with before. I understood her skepticism and would understand if she decided it was a bad idea to go with me.
“Fine,” she blurted out as if to prevent herself from changing her mind.
A small smile played on my lips, not enough to spook her but just enough to prove that I didn't have any ill intentions.
And just like that, the night took an unexpected turn. However, the million-dollar question remained: What would happen when we got to my place?