Under the hall’s bright chandeliers, Luka moves with an effortless grace, engaging with the guests – a nod of recognition here, a brief yet meaningful exchange there. As he weaves through the crowd, I can’t help but laugh at our first encounter. It seems like a lifetime ago.
“Max! That’s too big of a bite.” I look over to a marvelously designed ice cream stand, where Dimitri, Erik, and Yulia are engrossed in their frozen delights. The stand itself looks like it’s straight out of a fairy tale, with silver swirls and golden stars shimmering around its canopy and ethereal lights floating like fireflies. An array of exotic flavors, some even glowing faintly, are displayed decadently.
Yulia, her face smeared with strawberry ice cream, is gleefully trying to get a taste of Erik’s triple-vanilla cone. Beside them, Max looks on with keen interest, licking his lips, clearly yearning for another taste.
I laugh, covering my mouth with my hand at the adorable sight before me. “Oh, Yulia, you’ve got a little…” I gesture around my mouth, mimicking the smear of ice cream on her face.
She giggles, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. “It’s just so yummy, Sophia!”
Before I can respond, a couple approaches Yulia. The woman wears a sapphire silk gown, her raven-black hair in an elegant updo, her throat highlighted by a glinting diamond necklace. Beside her, a tall man in a charcoal gray three-piece suit and polished shoes stands proudly. They bend slightly to greet Yulia.
“Happy birthday, darling,” the woman coos.
“Thank you, Mrs. Montague,” Erik replies with practiced politeness.
Mafia boss playing businessman now, huh?
The woman bats her heavily mascaraed eyelashes, stretching a grin so wide it looks painful. “I hope you like it, sweety.” A maid steps up, handing Yulia a big, fancy velvet box.
Bet that’s not a stuffed toy inside.
The Montagues aren’t the only ones. One by one, influential figures, from politicians to business moguls, come forward, showering Yulia with their extravagant gifts. The weight of their offerings and the glint in their eyes betray their intentions – these aren’t simple birthday gifts. They’re offerings, gestures of goodwill to the Ivankov Bratva.
CLINK. CLINK. CLINK.
I turn my head as Svetlana’s wine glass makes a sound louder than her voice ever did. She’s dressed to kill. Who would’ve thought the stern head-maid had legs for days?
Instead of that drab uniform, she’s squeezed into a snug black cocktail dress that seems to challenge her usual stiff posture.
Damn, she looks breathtaking…and is that a glint of excitement in her eyes?
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I may usher you outside? We have an exquisite circus performance lined up.”
I steal a quick glance at Luka as he leads a group of guests outside. Just before he disappears from view, he catches my eye and shoots me a smile – quick, secretive, filled with meaning only we understand.
A confirmation.
“Ready for some fun, Yulia?” I ask, bending down to her level.
She nods eagerly. “Do you think they’ll have magicians? I want to see magic!”
“I’m sure there’ll be something magical out there. Maybe not a magician, but something equally exciting,” I teased.
Walking out with Yulia, I get this weird feeling. The noise of the party feels far away, and my heart is going crazy.
I look around and see Anya.
She’s watching us.
Chapter 20
Luka
In the newly set courtyard, lights flicker from the mansion, illuminating the stage at its center. There’s an acrobat on it, every move so bloody calculated, it reminds me of our world.
Just like walking a tightrope. One wrong move in our world, and you’re fucking dead.
Out of the blue, Dimitri’s voice cuts in, “Aleks’s van just pulled in.” His eyes are still on the stage, but I know he’s seen everything. Every entrance and exit, every face.
