Chapter 25
VIKTOR
? Two Weeks Later. ?
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
I stare at myself in the mirror while aggressively pulling at the black bow tie currently trying to strangle me.
I hate tuxedos.
The fucking tie is crooked as hell no matter what I do to it.
I loosen it completely before trying again, muttering curses under my breath while staring at myself in the full-length mirror across from me.
We’re staying in a suite at some fancy-ass hotel where a giant political gala is being thrown for Armani’s campaign donors and business partners.
It’s basically a bunch of fancy rich people pretending they care about the state while drinking thousand-dollar champagne, and also stabbing each other in the back.
A knock suddenly sounds against my bedroom door before it slowly opens.
Everleigh steps inside without waiting for permission.
“Need help?”
I glance toward her through the mirror and immediately pause.
She’s wearing a form-fitting black gown that’s floor length. The dress hangs low in the back and.. the front.
She is not wearing that.
“Is that really what you’re-”
She walks over to me, “Wow, Eve. You look beautiful tonight.” She lets out a breathy laugh. “I think that’s what you were supposed to say.”
I snort quietly before gesturing toward the bow tie hanging half undone around my neck. “This thing’s testing my will to live.”
A faint smile finally pulls at the corner of her mouth. “You’ve been wearing suits since you were fifteen.”
“Yeah well, clip-ons were invented for a reason.”
She rolls her eyes softly before stepping directly in front of me. “Stand still.”
I lift my hands slightly in surrender while she reaches for the tie.
Her fingers move carefully against the fabric while she fixes the knot with an immense amount of concentration.
I watch her through the mirror quietly while she adjusts it for what’s probably the fifth time.
“You know,” I mutter, “you look like you’re about to ruin marriages at the gala.”
Everleigh giggles softly under her breath. “Thank you for the compliment.”
“Father’s going to have a fucking stroke when he sees that dress.”
She shakes her head. “He’s the one who picked it out for me.”
My eyes drag over the dress again before lifting back toward hers through the mirror. “Of course he did.”
Everleigh notices the look on my face instantly.
“Oh my God,” she mutters. “Vik, I’m not sixteen anymore. You cannot tell me what to wear.”
“Eve, half your chest is out.”
She lets out a sharp laugh. “You sound eighty-years-old.”
“No, I sound like your brother.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically before stepping away from me and smoothing one hand down the side of the dress. “Father says men talk more when they’re comfortable.”
I scoff quietly. “Translation: rich politicians get stupid when a pretty girl pays attention to them.”
“Basically.” She confirms.
We sit in silence for a moment before I speak up again.
“You know this is insane, right?” I mutter while adjusting one of my cufflinks. “Most fathers don’t pick out dresses for their daughters based on how likely it is to make grown men expose secrets.”
Everleigh shrugs one shoulder lightly. “Most fathers also aren’t Gabriel Genovese.”
That’s fair.
She walks toward the window afterward, heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor while the city glows behind her.
“You know what the funny part is?” she asks quietly.
“I’m afraid to answer that.”
“The men at this gala are going to think that they’re manipulating me tonight.” A faint smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Meanwhile,” she says while fiddling with her left earring, “I’ll be wrapping them around my finger.”
I scowl immediately. “That somehow sounded incredibly disturbing.”
Her head snaps toward me. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I didn’t mean it like that.”
I watch my sister carefully while she stares out across Manhattan.
There’s something colder about her lately.
But every now and then, I still catch pieces of my actual sister underneath all of it.
Usually in moments like this.
When she laughs. Or forgets herself for half a second.
“You nervous?” I ask casually.
Her eyes shift toward me through the reflection in the window. “About what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe just our father using you as psychological warfare again.”
That earns another quiet laugh from her.
“I’ll survive.”
“I know you will.” I straighten my jacket slightly afterward. “I’m more worried about everybody else.”
Everleigh shakes her head while smiling faintly to herself. “Dante’s going to be so mad.”
I stare at her for a second before immediately pointing at her. “See? That right there is exactly why you’re trouble.”
She pulls her phone from the small black purse hanging from her wrist, glancing down at the screen briefly. “What do you mean?”
I straighten the cuffs of my tux once more before looking at her through the reflection again. “You enjoy making people uncomfortable.”
A faint smile tugs at the corner of her mouth like she knows I’m right.
She exhales softly before turning toward the door. “He’s ready for us. Let’s go.”
Then she walks out of the room before I can say anything else.