There’s an arrogant swagger to the way he carries himself. The tailored black tuxedo fits him like a second skin, and instead of a pocket square, he’s chosen to decorate his lapel with a white peony.
Slava is at my elbow in an instant, and his fingers shackle my wrist in fire as he snarls. "What the fuck ishedoing here? I thought you checked the guest list."
"I did. But he probably found out the same way anyone else does." I keep my own voice steady. "Monitoring political fundraisers isn't exactly sophisticated surveillance."
"I don't care how he found out." Slava's hand shackles around my wrist as he leans closer to my ear. “I want him gone. Now.”
I notice a few heads start turningourway, and more than a few eyebrows starting to raise.
Including Nico’s.
"Careful, Mr. Romanov," I whisper. "People are watching, and they might start getting the wrong ideas."
“I care aboutyougetting the wrong ideas, Ms. Creminelli.” His hand tightens. “Go do your job as my PR agent and make this problem go away, before I do it my way and make your life a bigger hell than it already is.”
And then, as if to make his point clear, he looks around at his men. I follow his gaze, and see the various security guards shifting their postures and reaching their hands in their suit jackets.
"I'll take care of it."
Slava says nothing as he lets me go, and slowly, I walk towards Nico D’Ambrosio.
Nico’s grinwidens when he sees me approach. Up close, he's even more irritatingly handsome. It’s the kind of handsome that knows it's handsome, and has been told so often that it’s become practically insufferable.
"Miss—" He deliberately drags out the word, waiting for me to choose which face to wear.
“Creminelli,” I tell him.
“Of course, how could I have possibly thought that it was anything else?” He bows mockingly. “What a wonderful event you’ve put together, Ms. Creminelli.”
"You need to leave." I cut right to the chase. "Whatever you're planning to do, you’re not going to fucking do it here."
"But I thought we wanted something to be done here." Nico's eyebrows rise in mock surprise. “In the middle of this fundraiser.” He gestures lazily at the press photographers circling the room. “In front of all these cameras."
"I told you that I’m concerned about collateral damage."
"And my men came with me through security like every other guest here. That is to say, unarmed."
He snaps his fingers and gestures at a caterer holding a tray of champagne. Once he plucks one off the plate, he takes a sip and watches me over the rim of his glass.
"I told you to trust me, and now I’m showing you that I’m a trustworthy man.”
Bullshit. If there’s one thing I learned in life, it’s that trustworthy people rarely have to tell you that they’re trustworthy.
“So you have,” I force politeness through my teeth. “And now you may leave.”
“I’m confused, Ms. Creminelli,” he says. “I thought you wanted my help in getting the world to see the real Slava Romanov by the people he chooses to be in bed with.”
“Bella Farnassi wanted your help,” I reply. “But unfortunately, Bella Creminelli has to do her job, and her job right now is getting you to leave.”
“Does it ever get confusing, Ms. Creminelli?” Amusement dances across Nico’s eyes. “Keeping track of where your loyalties lie?”
“I know exactly where my loyalties lie.”
“Do you? Because I’m starting to think that youwantto be in bed with Slava Romanov.”
My breath stops in my chest at what he just said, and he smirks when he sees.
“I told you before, Ms. Creminelli, both of us are after the same thing.” He pauses. "I know what he did to your brother. But don’t you want to know what Slava did to my little sister Gia?"
