46. -45- #2
Lucas choked beside me, standing just close enough to stop Sonny from strangling me in front of the entire ballroom. His face contorted with rage while every cell in my body buzzed with satisfaction.
“The wedding…” he started in a low voice, his eyes burning me to ashes with pure rage. Yet the moderator interrupted him, having just stepped onto the small stage near the grand piano beneath the chandeliers. I smiled sweetly at him, turning toward the man behind the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced smoothly with a professional expression plastered across his face, “for our beloved birthday girl, tonight’s celebration includes a very special performance prepared by her brother-in-law.” My chest tightened. “Please welcome Dorian Zhumagulov.”
Applause erupted around the ballroom as Dorian appeared from the side entrance. My breath caught in my throat.
God, help me!
He looked devastating beneath the soft lights.
A black suit molded over his broad shoulders, dark hair slightly messy as if he’d run frustrated fingers through it moments earlier, a silver watch catching the reflection from the chandeliers while he crossed the stage with lazy confidence, completely unfitting for a formal event.
A dreamy smile grazed my lips as I watched his every move. Admiration settled warmly beneath my ribs. Out of all the powerful, dangerous, brilliant men in this city, he was the icing on the cake. And living proof that my taste in men was catastrophically excellent.
Dorian sat before the piano and cracked his knuckles. A few guests chuckled, some whispered, but it all quieted down when he hit the first tones.
My pulse stumbled at the familiar sound. The melody’s opening resonated through the space, waking me from my dreamy state. What the hell?
The next passage nearly stopped my heart. Cold flooded my entire body. No.
No, no, no!
My eyes widened as the realization settled. I knew this melody!
Every rise. Every pause. Every unfinished transition hidden between the notes, because I wrote them myself three nights ago in my apartment while thinking about him.
The champagne glass almost slipped from my fingers.
He knew.
Holy fucking God, he knew!
Panic clawed up my throat with every passing second. He played flawlessly, his skilled fingers gliding across the piano keys. The ballroom listened in complete silence, enchanted by a song that was exposing me piece by piece.
Dorian’s eyes found me across the whole room. He was looking directly at me while playing. I forced myself not to move, not to react, but my chest squeezed harder with every note.
Did he know everything? He must have been in my apartment! Did he see the board? The pictures? The marriage certificate?
Jesus Christ.
The last note echoed softly through the ballroom. The final crescendo was epic, but to me it sounded like a bell announcing my execution. Ovation exploded around me, yet I barely heard it. All I could focus on was Dorian’s gaze, still locked on mine with frightening intensity.
There was no confusion in his expression. No uncertainty.
Fuck!
I turned and walked away before anyone could stop me. The ballroom blurred behind me as I pushed through a back exit into the quieter private corridor near the service elevators. My heartbeat thundered inside my skull, hands shaking as panic finally cracked through my carefully controlled mask.
He knew.
He fucking knew!
“Well,” Sonny drawled coldly, “where do you think you’re going?”
I froze. Not this asshole again!
Whipping around, I found him rushing behind me with a murderous expression fully visible now that nobody important was watching.
“What do you want?” I snapped, my body fully in flight mode. I had to escape Dorian and his brothers. This entire party was one big trap, and I walked right into it.
“You really need to learn some respect,” Sonny snarled, snatching my arm. I wriggled, hitting him with my purse.
“Let me go,” I hissed.
“Not before you understand the rules.” He pushed me against the wall, avoiding my punches. I never regretted not having my knife with me more. I would decorate these pristine white walls with his blood.
“Let me go!” I yelled, fighting to escape his bruising hold. “You fucker…”
“Hey!”
A familiar, deep voice forced us both to stop wrestling. I looked toward the door, my gaze colliding with Dorian’s. My heart momentarily stopped as I watched him approach us, fury written all over his handsome face.
“Why the hell are you touching her?”
Sonny looked at him as if he’d grown another head.
“She’s my fiancée,” he replied matter-of-factly, refusing to remove his nasty paws from me.
“Your what?” Dorian glared at him, momentarily confused before realization lit up his eyes.
“My future wife,” Sonny said impatiently. “We’re getting married in a few weeks.”
“Let her go,” Dorian commanded, nodding toward Sonny’s hand squeezing my arm.
“And why would I do that, Mr. Zhumagulov?” Sonny cocked a brow, his fingers digging further into my flesh. I pressed my lips into a thin line to prevent any pathetic sound from escaping.
“I said,” Dorian took a menacing step closer, “let her go, Carlile.”
Sonny lifted his chin in defiance, holding Dorian’s furious gaze.
“My trouble with her isn’t your problem,” he snarled, but winced at the clicking sound coming from Dorian’s suit. I followed it, involuntarily smirking at the sight of a silver knife in his left hand.
“It is my business, you fucking prick,” he growled, closing the distance between them. He was about two inches taller, and his massive build was extremely intimidating. “And if you don’t let her go right now, I’ll cut off your hand.”
Sonny immediately released my arm and took a hasty step back. His eyes dropped to the shiny blade, and he gulped.
“I don’t understand,” he mumbled, blinking at Dorian in potent fear.
“You don’t have to understand.” Dorian smiled at him warmly, as if he hadn’t drawn a knife on him a second ago. “Just fuck off.”
For a moment, Sonny looked like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it and quickly disappeared.
Only then did reality dawn on me.
I was alone with Dorian.
Without my mask!