I’m early, which is deliberate. Time to assess the crowd before it thickens. The gala is a stage, and I’ve got my role. Black shawl-collar blazer, crisp white shirt, everything tailored to perfection. Minimalist but sharp—exactly the opposite of the woman bearing down on me, dripping in enough gold to blind a man.
“Leonid!”
And here we go. Fiona Blackwood barrels into view, her laugh loud enough to drown out the jazz ensemble in the corner. She’s decked out in emerald green, her gown squeezing every inch of her as if it’s barely holding her together. The sheer weight of her jewelry could sink a ship. Her lips—recently inflated beyond reason—shine like she’s dipped them in oil.
“Fiona.” I meet her halfway, leaning in to kiss each cheek.
“Oh, Leonid,” she purrs, her lips smacking audibly as she releases me. “It’s been far too long. What’s it been—two weeks? Three?”
“Three,” I reply smoothly. “You look… younger.” The word sticks in my throat, but it’s better than telling her she looks like she lost a fight with a Botox needle.
Her lips twitch, and for a second, I wonder if she can tell I’m lying. “You charmer! I knew you’d notice. It’s the lips, isn’t it? I told my doctor to give me something unforgettable. What do you think?” She puckers dramatically, the sound like suction peeling off glass.
Unforgettable is one word for it.
“You always stand out, Fiona,” I say, scanning the room for an escape. “I hear the evening’s shaping up to be… lucrative.”
She beams, taking that as a compliment. “Lucrative? Darling, it’s monumental. If this goes smoothly, we’re looking at fifty billion. Gold is a sure winner right now, especially with Switzerland tightening its grip on alternative assets.”
Fifty billion reasons to tolerate her for a few hours. I glance at her bodyguards—massive men stationed like chess pieces around her. She waves at one of them.
“Silver! Get me another champagne.” The man obeys without a word, and Fiona turns back to me, fluttering her eyelashes, which I swear are weighed down by gemstones.
“You must be dying to have a drink with me,” she says, sliding a hand—cold, thanks to her bracelets—up my bicep. “Or are you on one of those dreadful ‘cleanses’? You look so… tight.” She gives my arm a squeeze. “And firm. Do you live at the gym, or were you just born this way?”
I smirk. “Born this way.”
“I knew it!” She smacks my chest lightly, her bangles clinking. “A true masterpiece. And speaking of masterpieces, when are you going to let me spoil you? I just got a shipment of vintage watches. One of them screamsyou.”
“Generous as always,” I reply, prying her hand off my arm and stepping back. “But you’re spoiling me enough with this deal. Let’s focus on that.”
Her lips curl into a pout—or at least they try. “Always so serious, Leonid. When are you going to let me have some fun with you?”
“Tonight’s about business.” My tone hardens just enough to send a message, but she laughs like I’ve told a joke.
“Oh, fine. But don’t think I’ll stop trying.” She winks. “You should loosen up, Leonid. Life’s too short to be all work and no play.”
I let a thin smile form. “And yet, work keeps me alive, Fiona.”
Blatant truth.
Suka,I force my focus back to the deal, the numbers, the logistics. Anything but Clara and that I can’t keep her there forever. She’ll need to go home… eventually.
Fiona is watching me. Her lashes flutter so hard I’m half afraid one of them might take flight—or worse, a chunk might come off entirely. She slaps my chest lightly again, her hand lingering there on purpose, her rings cool through the fabric of my blazer.
“Oh, Leonid, darling,” she purrs, “you’re no fun at all.” She bites her swollen lower lip, and for a second, I wonder if it’s about to pop like an overfilled balloon.
I puff my chest out, just the way she likes it, and her delighted giggle bubbles up, loud and shamelessly.
I lean in next to her ear. “Fiona,” I say, my voice smooth but firm, “why don’t we focus on the business?”
She tilts her head, clearly pleased with herself. “Oh, Leonid, you’re going to love this.”
I give her a sidelong glance, cautious. “Love what, Fiona?”
She winks, tugging me gently forward. “You’ll see. Don’t you want to know what happened to your little gold bars? Or have you forgotten already?”
Forgotten?Blyat.As if I could. That shipment alone is worth more than most of these hypocrites combined.
