Chapter 15
Hazel
I sat rigid in the spacious back seat, my body pressed hard against the leather.
The car was dead silent.
The glass sealed out all the chaos of LA's streets. Outside the window, neon lights flew past in rapid succession, casting Viktor's cold profile in shifting shadows.
He sat as far from me as possible, pressed against the opposite door, hands folded on his knees, eyes fixed straight ahead on the windshield.
Since I'd gotten in the car, he hadn't looked at me once. Hadn't said a single word.
I kept my head down, staring at the deep red silk dress Margaret had picked out for me. The expensive fabric bunched repeatedly in my fists.
Because I couldn't stop shaking.
Every time the car turned or hit a bump, pain shot through my knees and inner thighs. Marks left three days ago in the study.
No major wounds, but bruises of all sizes.
I closed my eyes, forcing myself not to remember how I'd scraped my knees raw, how I'd crawled to Viktor in humiliation, how I'd sobbed through his degradation.
But Viktor's ice-cold stare and vicious words had replayed in my head like a nightmare for three days straight.
I'd been naive enough to think that kiss I'd offered would show him my feelings.
I'd thought his protection, his indulgence, meant he felt something too.
But it was all my fantasy.
To Viktor, I was just a breeding vessel he'd bought, a cheap toy to use whenever he wanted.
My stomach churned. A suffocating pain squeezed my chest.
My love meant nothing to him. Worse—it disgusted him.
I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, turning to the window.
Three days now. Stop thinking about it, Hazel.
I forced myself to focus on tonight's only purpose—making sure Anya was safe.
I'd paid the price of my dignity for this ticket. I had to make it worth something.
Tyler, that vicious bastard—I didn't know exactly what he was planning.
But my gut told me he had dangerous intentions toward Anya.
The car slowed, stopping before a massive, brightly lit manor.
The driver got out and opened Viktor's door. Viktor stepped out on his long legs. I took a deep breath, gathered my skirt, and climbed out stiffly, ignoring the ache deep in my thighs.
Anya emerged from another car behind us. She wore a silver-white gown tonight, hair flowing over her shoulders. She looked stunning.
Outside the gates, a swarm of media reporters clustered, cameras flashing wildly, blindingly bright.
I'd never seen anything like it. I froze.
If I'd known this event would be so over-the-top, I wouldn't have worn this dress even if it killed me.
Seeing me standing there, Viktor impatiently grabbed my waist, his fingers landing precisely on a bruise he'd left.
I gasped, my body instinctively flinching.
"Head up," Viktor's low voice murmured in my ear. "Keep smiling."
I clenched my jaw and forced my mouth into a stiff smile.
Then he guided me forward, his arm around my waist, across the long red carpet and into the glittering ballroom.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, flooding the space with light. Classical music drifted through the air. Politicians and business elites in expensive custom gowns clustered in small groups, champagne flutes in hand.
The air was thick with designer perfume, cigar smoke, and champagne.
I'd never seen anything like this. Everything here radiated a suffocating luxury and privilege.
We'd barely stepped into the hall when the host—a veteran senator who was always on TV—approached with several attendants, beaming.
"Viktor! So glad you could make it." The senator extended both hands, gripping Viktor's firmly.
"Good evening, sir." Viktor nodded politely, his tone smooth, handling the situation effortlessly.
The senator immediately turned his attention to Anya beside Viktor.
"Miss Anya, you look absolutely radiant tonight." The senator deployed his well-practiced social flattery. "Your beauty is truly one of Los Angeles's greatest treasures. I imagine quite a few young men will be losing sleep over you tonight."
Anya's lips curved slightly. She nodded faintly in response.
After complimenting Anya, the senator's gaze drifted past Viktor's shoulder and landed on me.
He looked at my completely unfamiliar face, then at Viktor's hand on my waist, curiosity and scrutiny flashing in his eyes.
"Viktor." The senator looked at me, maintaining his polished smile. "Aren't you going to introduce this lovely lady?"
I turned nervously to Viktor, waiting for his answer.
Friend? Guest? Any remotely respectable title would do.
Viktor tilted his head slightly, lifting a champagne flute from a passing server's tray. He didn't look at me. His eyes stayed on the senator, his expression blank.
"Just a plaything I've been enjoying lately."
I bit the inside of my cheek. I knew that's what I was to him, but hearing him define me that way still hurt.
The senator's smile froze.
He clearly hadn't expected such a blunt, brutal answer. He coughed awkwardly and immediately looked away from me.
The surrounding elites and socialites who'd been chatting all stopped. They turned, staring at me.
Their gazes felt like scalpels, cutting me apart from head to toe.
Their eyes were full of contempt, disdain, and undisguised mockery.
"Oh, so she's just a high-class whore."
"I thought Gromov was announcing a new alliance or something. What a letdown."
Hushed whispers and sharp laughter rippled through the crowd.
I stood there, feeling like their stares had stripped me naked. The shame and despair swallowed me whole.
Soon, two men in black suits approached Viktor. One whispered in his ear.
"Together." Viktor nodded to the senator.
He took his champagne and walked off with the senator and the two men toward the other side of the ballroom, leaving me alone in the center of all that vicious attention.
He didn't even glance back.
I watched his back disappear into the crowd, a nameless grief rising in my chest.
Now only Anya and I stood there, face to face.
Anya stared after Viktor.
She bit out a single word. "Asshole."
Then she turned, and our eyes met briefly.
"Hazel, your taste in men is absolute garbage," she said.
Then Anya turned and walked away without another word, her strappy heels clicking against the floor.
I had to follow her. I had to warn her about Tyler.
I didn't know exactly what Tyler was planning, but I knew it wasn't good.
I ignored the mocking stares still fixed on me, took a deep breath, swallowed all the humiliation and heartbreak, gathered my skirt, and hurried after her.
By the time I caught up, Anya had already joined a circle of extravagantly dressed socialites.
They obviously knew each other well.
They held colorful cocktails, loudly discussing the latest haute couture brands and private yachts, surrounding Anya at the center.
I couldn't break into that circle. It was an invisible class barrier, keeping me firmly outside.
I could only stop a few steps away, standing in a corner.
I endured the throbbing ache in my thighs and the contemptuous glances from passing guests, anxiously waiting for Anya to finish talking.
Time crawled by. My back was soaked with cold sweat.
After half an hour, a handsome, tall man appeared in the middle of the group of women. He seemed very familiar with Anya, and he was charming—making Anya laugh uncontrollably.
I watched him carefully. A strange feeling rose inside me.
Something wasn't right. I'd seen him somewhere before.
But that didn't make sense. The man was striking—if I'd seen him somewhere, I should remember.
But I combed through everyone in my memory and came up empty.
I'd never heard Anya mention a man like this. Anya wasn't particularly interested in romance. She'd once told me that growing up around so many men made her prefer spending time with girls.
So seeing her chatting so easily with this man was surprising.
I tried to reassure myself. Maybe a childhood friend. Or someone she'd recently met.
After all, with Anya's status, how would I know anyone in her circle?
But just as I convinced myself, the man suddenly turned, and our eyes met briefly.
The instant he faced me, I became even more certain I'd seen him before.
And his reaction was even more suspicious. The moment he recognized me, he immediately looked away. Then he leaned close to Anya's ear and whispered something.
Soon after, the two of them walked shoulder to shoulder out of the crowd, heading toward the ballroom exit.
My unease intensified.
I immediately moved to follow them.
But I'd barely taken two steps when a woman in an emerald dress suddenly stepped out, blocking my path with her leg.
I was forced to stop.
The woman held a champagne flute. She lifted her chin slightly, surveying me from head to toe with extreme arrogance and scrutiny.
A mocking smile played on her lips.
"Oh, sorry, miss." The woman emphasized "sorry" sarcastically, but she made no move to step aside. She blocked my way completely with her body.
"But you really shouldn't wander around. This isn't a playground."
"Okay," I answered obediently, then immediately shifted and tried to go around her other side.
"You—" The woman clearly hadn't expected me to blow her off like that. She called out angrily.
But I was already past caring.
I quickened my pace, almost running through the crowd.
But the delay cost me. By the time I finally pushed through the crowd and reached the corridor off the right-side parlor, Anya had completely disappeared.
The hallway was dim, empty, deserted.
"Anya..." I called out softly.
No response.
I spun around frantically, searching everywhere for Anya but finding nothing.
The fruitless search wasted precious time. With no leads, I returned to where I'd lost her, then hurried to the first lounge door in the corridor. I pushed it open—just empty couches. I tried the second door, the third. Anya was nowhere.
A sense of dread spread through me.
Just as I reached for the fourth door, a familiar figure suddenly emerged from around the corner, blocking my path.
Tyler.
I almost didn't recognize him.
His hair was slicked back with too much gel, looking greasy. The leg that had been broken seemed to have healed, but his movements weren't smooth anymore.
"Hazel." Tyler stopped in front of me, eyes roaming over me. "What a coincidence. You look great tonight. That red dress really suits your skin. How've you been? How's that precious belly of yours doing?"
I glared at him, nausea rising in my stomach.
"What the hell do you want, Tyler?" I cut straight to it, my voice full of disgust. "Move. I don't have time for this."
Tyler slowly raised his champagne flute and took a small sip.
Then he shifted, cleverly repositioning his shoulder and arm to occupy most of the hallway, completely blocking my path forward.
"Don't be so hostile, Hazel." Tyler stood his ground, spouting meaningless garbage. "I heard Viktor just announced you're his plaything? I've always believed good toys should be shared."
He spoke lewdly, his eyes shamelessly traveling up and down my body.
I tried the same trick as before, going around his left side.
But Tyler wasn't as easy to fool as that woman. He immediately shifted, blocking me again.
"Where are you rushing off to?" He smiled. "There's nothing up ahead."
I tried going right. Tyler blocked me again.
I realized something was wrong.
Tyler had never been this patient with me. And he was deliberately keeping me from going forward, but not stopping me from going any other direction.
I looked at the fourth room behind him. A bad feeling suddenly bloomed in my chest.