“Let’s go. We’re late already.” I lead the way, my shoes scuffing against the floor.
***
As expected, her appearance at the gala drew attention to us. The second we walked into the hall, elbows intertwined, heads turned toward us. Familiar faces stared at the newlyweds with faint grins perched on their lips.
Emika leaned in, whispering softly, “They’re looking at us.”
“What did you expect?” I replied with the same tone, my eyes darting across the grand hall. “People tend to stare at beautiful things.”
“Hmm.” She glanced at me, her lips curling to a knowing smile. “Is that a compliment I hear?”
“Don’t get used to it,” I replied dismissively, suppressing the harmless grin struggling to break free.
We weaved through the guests, lingering in small groups with champagne flutes in hand. Each one was dressed to impress. The men were all in tailored suits, and the women in elegant gowns with expensive jewelry glinting in the soft light.
The air was filled with the low hum of conversations and the occasional clinking of glasses. Waiters in their signature black-and-white moved through the crowd with trays of drinks and canapés balanced in their hands.
I nodded at a few familiar faces and shook hands with some extended family members.
“Adrik Tarasov,” Caleb Glenn called softly, arms apart as he walked over to my wife and me. “Long time no see, brother.” He embraced me.
“You look good, Caleb,” I said, tapping his shoulder.
He beamed faintly. “I owe that to you and your family.”
Caleb Glenn was an American businessman who’d been shot and left for dead two years ago on Russian soil. He was assumed dead, but in reality, he wasn’t. When I found him that cold night—injured and bleeding—he was barely holding on to life.
I could’ve left him in the pool of his own blood, but I didn’t. Instead, I ordered my men to pick him up from the roadside and take him to one of the Tarasov-owned hospitals.
After he was treated and nursed back to life, he felt indebted to my family and me. Especially after we helped him get revenge on those who’d planned his death.
He was back in Chicago now and had become one of our biggest investors.
“You must be Emiko,” he said, reaching to shake her hand.
She glanced at me, then at him again, before taking his hand. “You know my name.”
“Everyone in the family knows your name.” He chuckled. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the woman with the keys to this man’s heart.”
She yanked her brows in surprise. “Pleasure’s all mine.”
“The name’s Caleb, by the way. Caleb Glenn.”
“Nice meeting you, Caleb.”
He turned to me. “She’s beautiful. You hit the jackpot with this one, brother.”
I squeezed out a small smile.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. “Oh, you’ll have to excuse me. I have to take this.” He withdrew the device and walked away.
“He seems nice,” she said to me.
“Don’t let that fool you. No one in here is nice,” I answered, picking up a glass of champagne from the tray of a waitress passing through. “That man’s the devil’s incarnate.”
“I highly doubt it,” she whispered.
I glanced at her. “Why’s that?”
