Chapter 27
VIKTOR
? One hour later. ?
An hour into this stupid fucking gala and I already need another drink.
Maybe six.
I stand near one of the ballroom columns with a glass of tequila in my hand while some hedge fund asshole explains stock market trends to another rich guy beside me.
The violin music’s somehow has gotten louder.
Or maybe my patience has just gotten thinner.
It feels like both.
My eyes drift across the ballroom automatically, searching for Everleigh through the sea of expensive dresses and suits.
Our father has had her working the room for the last hour.
Every time I catch sight of her, she’s laughing softly at something some politician says while touching his arm lightly or tilting her head just enough to keep him talking longer.
Men practically unravel themselves around her.
I spot Dante near the bar a few seconds later.
He’s staring at Everleigh from across the ballroom.
The bartender slides another whiskey toward Dante while two women nearby blatantly try getting his attention.
He doesn’t even notice them.
His eyes stay locked on my sister instead.
Obsessive asshole.
I snort quietly into my drink before finally pushing myself away from the column.
I should probably go save my sister from whatever seventy-year-old senator is currently trying to flirt with her.
As I start weaving through the ballroom crowd, I suddenly collide into someone.
“Well,” she says while lifting her water glass slightly, “fancy meeting you here.”
I stare at her for a second before laughing under my breath. “Where’s Everleigh?”
Chloe lifts the glass toward her lips before answering casually, “I saw your sister disappear with that dark and broody second-in-command of yours maybe five minutes ago.”
My brows furrow instantly. “Dante?”
“Mm.” A smile pulls faintly at the corner of her mouth. “The one who looks like he’d kill somebody over eye contact alone.”
That sounds about right.
I glance across the ballroom automatically, scanning for either of them, but find nothing.
No sign of Dante near the bar anymore either. Fucking fantastic.
“Should I be concerned?” Chloe asks while watching me.
“Uh.. no.” I answer after a few seconds.
That earns a soft laugh out of her before she takes another sip from the glass in her hand.
She physically winces as she swallows.
I narrow my eyes slightly. “Why are you drinking your water like it personally offended you?”
Chloe blinks once. “What?”
“You keep wincing after every sip.”
“I’m not wincing.” She argues.
“You absolutely are.” I retort.
She looks down at the glass like she forgot she was holding it in the first place.
And then suddenly it all makes sense to me.
The slightly flushed cheeks and the loss of balance.
The way she’s talking just a little too freely compared to earlier.
I stare at the glass again before looking back at her slowly.
“That’s not water.”
Chloe bursts out laughing immediately.
“No,” she admits while lifting the glass slightly. “It’s vodka.”
I snort quietly. “Jesus Christ.”
“In my defense,” she says while pointing vaguely toward the ballroom around us, “being sober in a room like this is somewhat depressive.”
She leans lightly against the nearby column afterward, silver dress catching beneath the ballroom lighting while violin music swells again somewhere behind us.
“I switched glasses with one of my father’s donors earlier by accident,” she continues. “Then I decided life was better this way.”
“You’re drunk at your father’s political gala?”
“Tipsy,” she corrects. “Drunk implies poor decision making.”
“You just admitted to stealing vodka from a donor.”
“Exactly. Strategic thinking.” She smiles.
I actually laugh at that.
Chloe watches me and smiles triumphantly like she somehow won something.
“There it is,” she says while pointing at me with the glass. “You do have a personality under all the emotional repression.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”
Her smile fades almost instantly.
“You’re very protective of Everleigh.” She says.
“And you’re very observant for somebody who’s drunk.”
She grins slightly before looking back toward the ballroom crowd.
“I think your sister deserves one night where she’s not being treated like leverage.”
My eyes lift toward hers immediately. “What?”
She shrugs lightly before taking another sip of vodka. “You met my father tonight. You really think I can’t recognize what yours is doing to her?”
Everleigh’s gotten so good at playing the role lately that most people don’t even notice she’s performing anymore.
I exhale quietly before running a hand across the back of my neck. “You know, you’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”
Chloe glances toward me again, eyes slightly glassier now than before. “That’s usually code for ‘you underestimated me,’” she says.
“Maybe I did.” I respond.
A faint smile tugs at the corner of her mouth before she looks back toward the ballroom again.
This place is like a stage set.
Everybody here’s pretending to be something they are not.
Including us.
Chloe swirls the vodka around slowly inside the glass before speaking again. “You know what I think is funny?”
“Based on the last few minutes, I’m a little concerned to hear the answer.”
She smiles faintly into the rim of the glass. “Everybody in this room thinks they’re important.”
I glance around the ballroom again automatically.
One politician is laughing too hard near the piano.
Some billionaire donor is aggressively shaking Elliot Armani’s hand like he’s trying to buy himself a future favor.
Across the room, Father’s speaking to a judge, probably trying to use him for future run-ins.
Chloe isn’t wrong.
“This entire place runs on ego,” she continues quietly.
I snort into my drink. “You really don’t like politicians.”
“I don’t like people who pretend they’re saving the world while secretly bidding on it.”
A waiter walks past us carrying another tray of champagne, and Chloe reaches for one automatically before I grab her wrist lightly.
“No.”
Her brows lift immediately. “You’re very controlling.”
“You’re very drunk.” I retort.
“I’m functioning beautifully.” She says.
“You almost walked into a ficus earlier.”
“If I almost walked into it, it’s because the plant had bad energy.”
I stare at her for a second before laughing quietly under my breath. “I made the ficus up.”
Chloe’s face turns a deep shade of red.
“You are such an asshole,” she mutters while trying not to laugh at the same time.
“I’m still stuck on the fact you genuinely believed you almost got taken out by a fictional ficus,” I say, now way too entertained by this conversation.
She points the vodka glass at me accusingly. “You manipulated me.”
“Welcome to politics.” I say.
That actually gets a loud laugh out of her this time before she quickly covers her mouth when a few nearby guests glance our way.
“Okay,” she says while shaking her head slightly. “That one was funny.”
Chloe lets out a breath before finishing the rest of the vodka in one swallow.
Immediately afterward, she winces again.
“Jesus,” I mutter. “How are you still alive?”
“Spite mostly.” She responds.
My attention shifts across the ballroom again right as Everleigh and Dante step fully back into the crowd together.
Everleigh’s lipstick looks slightly smudged.
Dante looks one minor inconvenience away from murdering somebody.
Chloe notices me staring past her and turns slightly to follow my line of sight.
“Oh,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.”
Her brows lift slightly while watching the two of them cross the room together. “Well, that explains a lot.”
I let out a long sigh before dragging a hand down my face. “I’m going to age terribly because of those two.”
“You say that like you’re seventy.”
“I feel seventy.” I grumble.
Across the ballroom, Father’s still speaking with donors completely unaware that his daughter probably just got felt up somewhere in the hotel thirty seconds ago.
Chloe suddenly bumps her shoulder lightly against mine.
Before she can say anything, Elliot Armani’s voice suddenly cuts through the music from somewhere behind us. “Chloe.”
Her entire expression changes instantly.
From carefree to on-guard within seconds.
The relaxed version of her disappears almost immediately as she straightens slightly and looks toward her father.
And then suddenly I realize something.
She’s performing too.