Joy #2
“You’re wearing black,” I point out. “Why can’t I?”
“Because I don’t want you blending in.” His eyes darken. “I need to keep an eye on you.”
Fuck. He’s got me figured. He thinks I’m gonna make a move tonight and try to escape.
I am. But there’s better ways to do that than running away.
“If you’re worried about me escaping, you can rest assured. I can’t even walk in this dress.” I tug at the unforgiving fabric. “Let alone run.”
Valerian nods, moving onto another topic. “Feel free to enjoy yourself. There are lots of food options. The caterers have outdone themselves once again.”
Where’s he going with this?
“Try the champagne, too. It’s vintage, from the seventies. But don’t drink too much. You don’t want to upset your stomach.” His features darken. “And you don’t want to upset me. If I find out you’ve been talking to anyone about our little arrangement—”
“Let me take a guess—you’ll strangle me to death?” I hitch my eyebrow up at him. “What about the ring on my finger? Does anyone here know you’re married?”
“My Bratva do. But my real estate employees don’t.” Valerian corners me more into the staircase. Once again, his frame is swallowing me whole. “If they ask about the wedding ring, you say you’re married to someone else.”
“And what about your…?” I look down at his finger.
There’s no ring on it. He took it off.
I look down at his finger pointedly. “Well, I guess I’m off the hook if there’s no ring on your finger.” I go to shove past him.
Valerian pins me back into the banister. “I removed it, so they don’t ask questions.”
“You don’t like it when people ask you questions, do you?” I fold my arms over my chest. “It’s strange. Galina doesn’t like it either.”
Valerian clenches his jaw.
“What’s the deal with her and the butler? Are they sworn to secrecy? Did you make them sign an NDA?”
“That,” says Valerian, sticking his face in mine with gritted teeth, “is none of your concern. You should be grateful I’m letting you come out of your room and be here tonight. It’s an honor.”
“I’m sure.”
“If I hear a peep from you about what happened last night, about anything, you’ll pay for it.”
“With what?”
“Your arousal.” Valerian grunts low in my ear.
“I’ll tie you to my bed and leave you there.
In pain.” He skims over my chest. “I’ll make sure you’re right on the edge, printsessa.
Your legs will be wide open, locked, just like your hands.
Your poor pussy will be weeping by the end of it.
” His eyes cut back into mine. “I suspect it already is now. I can tell by the color of your cheeks.” He grazes them for a moment.
And then he steps back. “Behave, and I’ll reward you.
Misbehave?” Valerian gives me a pointed look “Well… Let’s hope you don’t find out. ”
He really doesn’t want anyone knowing about us.
“Enjoy the evening. Stay out of trouble.” Valerian pulls away. “I know you can do that for me. You’re enjoying being here more than you’re letting on.”
He winks, disappearing back into the crowds.
What an asshole.
I need a drink to forget about that entire conversation.
I pluck a champagne flute from the serving trays when they circle back around. I take a sip. And squint. It’s strong stuff. Valerian was right about that.
But I like the way it burns as it goes down my throat. This is what I need. Something to take the edge off.
I find the food tables, munching on some appetizers. It feels wrong eating them. They look more like art, all intricately shaped into hearts.
Interesting choice. I’m surprised they didn’t go for something more on brand, like little skulls or guns.
There’s definitely no love in this room tonight, even though a lot of people here are pretending there is.
Investors shake hands with members of the Bratvas. Employees take advantage of the open bar and drink the champagne like it’s water.
It’s easy to tell the Bratva members apart from everyone else.
They’re bigger. More muscular. And they have tattoos and scars—both very definable.
The scars vary from person-to-person, but the tattoos are all the same.
All Sokolov members have one on their left wrist, another on the back of their neck.
It’s the letter ‘S’ shaped into a snake.
I wash the food down with a second glass of champagne. It’s easy to get addicted… and carried away when you haven’t had a lick of alcohol since you were seventeen.
God, that was six years ago. Where the hell has the time gone?
Don’t go down that rabbit hole, Joy.
I finish my second glass. And just like magic, the server is back, doing another lap of the room.
“Something to drink?”
I know I shouldn’t.
But I also need some Dutch courage to pull off my plan.
“Sure,” I say, taking a third glass. “Thanks.”
I spend most of the evening standing on the sidelines, watching everyone else. Camera flashes fill the room as Valerian smiles, shaking hands with investors and some of his employees. Those will be going up on his website, that’s for damn sure.
But nobody in this city knows the truth.
I finish my third glass of champagne. There’s no burn in my throat anymore. It’s like I’m drinking juice.
I feel lightheaded. I grip the edge of the table for support, waiting for the feeling to pass. The clinking glasses and cheering all fades away. I even stop hearing the string quartet for a moment.
I blink myself back into the room, straightening my vision. I look out into the lobby and see little black dots walking around. Not men. I mean, they all look similar. They wear the same things, style their hair the same way. All carbon copies of Valerian.
The noise returns. I regain my vision, and my composure. I set the glass down on the table, dust myself off. Time to go in for the kill.
I’m beelining over toward the cameramen when I bump into someone. The man turns around. He’s close to Valerian’s age. But nowhere near as attractive. He’s bald and has a long beard. Shame all his hair is growing in the wrong place.
“And who might you be, sweetheart?” The man scans my body. His eyes lighten.
I’m not sure how I feel about other men calling me sweetheart. Valerian got there first.
“I’m Joy.” I flash him a smile. And then spots fill my vision. I’m losing composure again.
I hold onto the man’s shoulder, stabilizing myself. He’s the only semi-hard surface I can find in the middle of the lobby.
“Wow.” The man snakes his arm around me. “Careful. Looks like someone’s had too much to drink.”
“No, I’m good.”
“I can smell it in your breath, sweetheart. A small thing like you should be staying clear of that stuff.”
A small thing.
People have names.
But he doesn’t seem to think so. He’s more fascinated with my chest. He doesn’t wanna know my name. He wants to know what my bra size is.
He looks like he wants to measure himself and find out.
“Why haven’t I seen you before?” He’s still staring at my cleavage. “I definitely wouldn’t forget seeing a woman like you.”
I crane my neck, making sure the press are still over in the corner.
Either the woman’s cold, or she’s buttoning up her jacket because it’s time for her to leave. She has to stay. At least have a couple more drinks. She’s my ticket out of this place.
And I need to get out. Especially after seeing Valerian strangle a man last night.
He has enemies. Igor’s men could be swarming the city for all I care. It doesn’t matter. Something weird’s going on. Galina is terrified of Valerian. What did he do to her?
And how did Igor’s mother die?
I can’t stick around. It’s clear Valerian’s still emotionally unavailable, hung up over what happened to her. All of her stuff is still here in the house. Her skincare. All her books. For all I know, I’m wearing her dress.
“How long have you been working for Valerian, just out of curiosity?”
“Hm,” says the man, scratching his bald head. “Now that’s a question. Maybe twenty-so years. Why?”
“Have you ever met any other… women?”
The man smirks. “None as beautiful as you.”
That doesn’t exactly answer my question.
“No.” I shake the comment off. “I don’t mean it like that. I’m asking because—”
The man grabs my hand, zeroing in on the wedding ringer.
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
“He’s… not here right now.”
“Good.” The man grabs my hand harder. “Because he’s not very lucky tonight. Shall we go somewhere more private? I want to talk. Alone. And I can barely hear myself think in this place.”
Obviously, he doesn’t want to talk. But I do.
Galina won’t tell me about Valerian’s history.
I have hope with this guy if I can show him a bit more cleavage. He might start to give me what I want then.
“Sure. We can go outside.”
“How about upstairs?” The man’s face darkens.
“Um.” I swallow. “I really think—”
The man grabs me. Hard. He keeps his hand locked around my wrist, subtly dragging me through the crowds, toward the staircase.
My throat tightens. And then my vision goes hazy from the alcohol again. All the fight leaves my body. I want to shove him off. I don’t care about the history. I don’t wanna hear it from him. Trading information for sex isn’t really my thing
Besides, this guy doesn’t really care about anything I have to say.
“Hey. Um. I really need to—”
“Get out of the dress,” the man finishes for me. “I know. I’ll tear it right off and fuck you. I bet your husband has never made you finish.”
How much is he betting? Because I could use some money for when I get out of here.
I glance sideways at the camera crew as the man pulls me away from them.
Fuck, I can’t make a scene…
I suppose that’s why Valerian makes one for me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Valerian hisses in the man’s ear.
Before he can answer, he sends him flying into the staircase.
Gasps fill the air. The entire lobby comes to a standstill. Every single person in this room is looking at Valerian and the man.
And me.