Chapter 7
DANYL
The last place I want to be is at some meaningless fundraiser that’s more about political play than raising money for a good cause.
Liza and I have barely been married a week.
It’s too soon to share her with the rest of the world.
If I had my choice, she’d never leave the cocoon of the penthouse.
It’s the only place I can keep her truly safe.
But she insists on going to her college classes and volunteer at the animal shelter where she helps the veterinarian. I make sure Alexei goes with whenever she has to be at those places.
She grumbles about that, but I will not negotiate about this. Her safety is everything, because I no longer know how to live my life without her.
Blyat, it scares me how much she already means to me. The thought of losing her makes my chest hurt. I rub it absently as I rush through the hallway to get to the function Rik’s ordered Liza and me to attend.
She’s already there because she went shopping for a dress with Rik’s wife, Perla, and then the two of them got glammed up for the party at a salon that performs the whatever weird magic required for women to attend big galas.
I step into the ballroom and the first thing I register is the cold, glittering tension in the air.
It hits my skin, sliding under my collar like a blade.
We’re still in the first hour of the event and it’s already a battleground draped in velvet and gold.
The chandeliers drip crystal that sparkles like frozen stars, and the entire ceiling glows with soft amber light.
Someone spent a fortune making this place look like a temple of power.
This is very much Senator Gahr’s style, the host of the event, and Perla’s uncle.
People dressed accordingly. Men wear tailored tuxedos that probably cost more than most people’s cars. Women draped themselves in silk, sequins, and diamonds. They look like birds of paradise circling a kill.
But then I see her and all my cynical thoughts vaporizes.
Liza stands next to Rik and Perla, and for a moment, the chaos of the room disappears as all my senses focus on her.
A deep emerald gown skims her curves and gathers at the base of her spine in a soft knot.
Her hair is swept up, leaving her neck bare and tempting, as if deliberately placed there to test my self-control.
The warm light of the room plays with the shades of her hair, bringing out glittering reds and golds I haven’t noticed before.
She turns her head as though sensing me, and when her eyes meet mine, something hot and territorial surges through my chest. She looks… breathtaking. Vulnerable and strong at the same damn time. I want to cross the room, pull her against me, and make it clear to everyone that she’s mine.
But this event, this ridiculous party, is a political chessboard. So I move slowly when all I want to do is run. The effort makes my jaw tick.
Rik catches my eye, lifting his whiskey in greeting. “Cousin,” he says when I reach them. “Try not to look like you’re planning a murder tonight.”
I clasp his hand. “Then people should try not to provoke me.”
Perla gives me a knowing smile, beautiful and dangerous. Just like her. “Hello Danyl,” she murmurs, leaning in to kiss the air beside my cheek. “I like your wife, she’s my new best friend and looks incredible tonight. Keep her close.”
“She does, and I intend to.”
Liza blushes, her fingers brushing the neckline of the incredible dress.
I gaze into her green eyes, trying to convey all the things I want to say out loud but can’t.
Including how I can’t wait to take that amazing dress off her.
It will be like unwrapping my favorite present.
Putting my arm around her, I bring her close enough that anyone with eyes understands she’s mine.
Before I can speak to my wife directly, Senator Gahr approaches.
And the temperature around us drops ten degrees.
He’s a short man with a permanent sneer, wearing confidence like it’s a tailored suit. His wife, Monica, is right behind him, a woman built from sharp lines, and spite. Perla lived with them for most of her life and they treated her horribly. Making her feel unworthy.
Perla’s spine straightens subtly. Her uncle’s plan of trading her to Rik for political favors and money backfired tremendously. She’s the one in the power seat now and Senator Gahr is not happy about that.
“Well,” he says, looking Liza over like she’s an unwanted accessory someone snuck past security. “Perla didn’t exaggerate. You did bring someone…unexpected, Danyl.”
I feel Liza tense and my jaw locks.
Rik steps forward with an easy, deadly smile. “Senator. Lovely turnout tonight.”
“It usually is,” Gahr replies. “Although some guests do stand out.” His eyes flicker Liza’s way again before exchanging a look with his wife.
Monica smirks at Liza. “Darling, where did you find that dress? It’s very ambitious.”
Heat slams through me like a punch. I’m seconds from snapping, my hands curl into fists.
Liza speaks before I can act. “Thank you,” she says softly, stepping away from me as she holds out her dress.
Not meek, but controlled. Elegant. “Perla picked it out for me when we went shopping today. I was afraid it would be too expensive, but she insisted your standards required top-of-the-line couture.”
She’s killing them with kindness. And for a moment, I’m too proud to speak.
Perla loops her arm through Liza’s, a movement so smooth it looks instinctive. “It’s perfect,” she says loudly enough for the surrounding donors to hear. “And Danyl hasn’t taken his eyes off her since we got here.”
Senator Gahr’s expression curdles. “Still,” he says, “tonight is about public image. And a hasty choice…a hasty marriage doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in a person’s dependability.”
I pull Liza back to my side, hand settling low on her back. “Nobody needs to worry about my choices,” I say evenly, “they are not up for negotiation.”
Gahr’s nostrils flare. Monica’s eyes narrow. The game has officially begun.
The next hour is a blur of forced handshakes, false compliments, smiles sharpened to points.
Every wealthy donor here is pretending they have power, but they are all in Rik’s pocket now.
He’s the gamemaster of this chessboard. The Senator walks around like he’s still relevant. Like he still has power.
He doesn’t anymore.
Perla owns him. Fully, quietly, irrevocably. And he hates her for it.
Which means he hates all of us.
I want to be with my wife, but the political game separates the spouses.
I watch her across the room and worry chills me when I see Liza moving through the room like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible.
Her fingers trembles as she grips her clutch.
The hurt is there, in the slight hunch of her shoulders.
She feels out of place, no matter how much I want to tell her she looks like the only real thing in this whole glittering charade.
Someone needs to die for making her feel unwanted.
I step out of my current conversation mid-sentence.
The important someone I don’t give a fuck about, spluttering as I walk across the room to get to my wife.
I lean down when I reach her. “You okay?”
She forces a smile. “I’m fine.”
Liar. I want to touch her cheek. Tilt her chin up. Tell her she’s the most beautiful woman here and that none of these people matter.
But there are cameras. Watching eyes. And if they see how much she matters to me, I’ve painted a target on her back.
So I hold myself in place. Barely.
Another hour goes by, and then Alexei appears, his face tight. He nods at me, but it’s Rik he approaches. Murmuring something in his ear. Alexei looks out of place in a regular suit, but people are used to political aides showing up with messages, so nobody reacts.
Rik excuses himself from the cluster of men surrounding him. He nods for me to follow.
In a corner of the room, half-hidden by gold-trimmed curtains, we face Alexei who lowers his voice. “Bad news.”
Rik’s expression doesn’t change, but the shift in the air is instant.
“What kind,” I ask.
“The man who attacked Liza? The one she…neutralized?” My pulse spikes as Alexei continues, “He’s connected to the Chrome Demons MC.”
Fuck. The Demons, a territorial motorcycle gang involved in everything from gun-running to extortion. And very pissed off that Rik’s moving in on their turf.
If Liza killed one of theirs…
“They’ve already spread word,” Alexei says. “Someone’s put a price on her.”
“How do they know it’s her,” I ask. “There were no cameras and the cleanup went flawlessly.”
Alexei shrugs. “I don’t know. But she’s definitely named.”
“Under which name, though?” I rub a hand down my face. “Under which last name, I mean?”
“That’s the good news,” Alexei says. “The hit refers to her as Liza Ponti, not Kedrov.”
Rik’s jaw locks. “Doesn’t matter which name they use. She’s family. Are they’re making a move tonight?”
“No signs yet,” Alexei says. “But I don’t like that she’s visible here. And that we’re flaunting that she’s under our protection. That might make the Demon’s more eager.”
Fuck. I scan the room for Liza and my chest tightens when I don’t immediately see her.
Rik claps a hand on my shoulder. “Keep her close. Discreetly. We can’t look rattled. Not here.”
I nod, but my heart is already pounding too fast.
After minutes that feels like hours of fruitless searching, I finally find her, standing beside Monica Gahr. Alone.
My gut twists.
Monica is smiling too brightly, one of those smiles that’s all teeth. “And of course,” she says, “some women never quite fit in at first. It takes a certain, refinement, influence, and a lot of guidance.”
Liza’s pulse flickers visibly at her throat.
I step in. “Everything okay?”
Monica beams. “Just talking fashion with your date.”
“She’s not my date. She’s mine.” I say before my brain catches up. “My wife,” I correct.
Monica’s eyebrows rise. She glances at Liza’s hand. At her bare ring finger.
Liza turns pink.
Damn it. I meant to get her a ring, but I’ve been too busy spending time with her in bed. I should have anticipated she needed a ring for this stupid event. But then I didn’t know we were going to this meaningless party. I shake my head.
Monica excuses herself with a thin smile.
When she’s gone, Liza exhales shakily.
“You look like you want to punch someone,” she says.
“I want to punch her,” I admit. And myself for not protecting my wife from vultures like her.
Her laugh is soft, fleeting. “Please don’t.”
I lower my voice. “You don’t deserve the way they’re talking to you. Any of them.”
She looks down. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I don’t belong—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I growl.
She blinks up at me.
“You belong anywhere you decide to be. Especially with me.”
Her lips part. Hope flickers in her eyes, and something darker. Something I want to explore when we’re finally back in the penthouse, just the two of us.
And I want to kiss her. Fuck, I want to take her somewhere quiet and ruin her lipstick.
Her phone vibrates before I can take that thought further. She glances at the screen and sighs. “My dad,” she whispers, showing me her phone and a picture of a man who probably isn’t much older than me, but looks like he’s had a couple of hard last decades.
“You don’t have to answer.” She hasn’t said much about her family, but I know her dad upsets her.
“No, I have to. He’s been out of town and wants to get together, but I’ve been avoiding his calls” She steps away, moving quickly, head down and slips through a side door.
As much as she’s lectured me about boundaries and privacy—all while trying to get me to stope insisting on a guard to accompany her—I’m not leaving her alone when the Demon’s know who she is.
I move toward the door so I can keep an eye on her.
But one of Senator Gahr’s minions waylays me with some nonsense about campaign initiatives.
I don’t give a fuck about campaigns or initiatives, but I have to extract myself politely and it takes a few minutes.
When I finally get away, the other side of the door reveals an empty hallway. No Liza.
My hands curl into fists.
Alexei reappears at my side, tension radiating off him.
“We’ve got movement outside.”
My heart stops. “What kind?”
“Limo pulled up to the front. Left thirty seconds ago.”
My blood turns to ice. “License?” I demand.
Roman shakes his head. “New plates. Clean.”
I’m already moving and reach the valet station outside the event center. I reach the young valet just as he’s checking his clipboard. “You.” My voice is a whip. “A woman, emerald dress, did you see her leave?”
He startles. “Uh. Yes, sir. She got into a limo. The man said he was her father.”
Every muscle in my body turns to iron. “Describe him,” I rasp.
He does.
And the description matches the photo on Liza phone. Did she leave the party with him because I couldn’t protect her from vicious tongues, like Monica’s? Did she leave me?
Something inside me breaks. “Which direction?” I bite out.
The valet points, shaking.
I’m already running.
Already pulling my phone from my pocket.
Already dialing Rik.
When he answers, my voice is a growl I barely recognize. “Liza’s on her own and unprotected.”