Maybe something you should have thought of before?
I silence the rational thought. I still don’t regret it. We’ll figure it out.
Liev catches my eye again, then glances at his watch. Even from this distance I can see his jaw tighten. It's almost ten. Mikhail's car will be waiting outside.
He’d hoped Keke would be done by now, but the guests have lingered. With one more glance at his watch, his lips thin, and he weaves through the small crowd until he reaches my side.
I look up and give him a smile. “We’re all good here.”
He looks conflicted. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I nod, keeping my expression professional for anyone who might be observing us. “Not a problem. This is almost over, and once Etienne locks up the jewels, I’ll tuck Keke in bed.” I arch a brow and mutter, “So sorry about your food poisoning.”
His lips tip. “Couldn’t you have thought of a little less ignoble way to explain it? Like, I had to rush to a burning building and save a school of orphans. Not that I had to run to the toilet.”
“Nope, I’m the one telling it. I get to pick the story. Go. You’re going to be late.”
Bending down, he cups my jaw roughly and kisses me hard on the mouth. It's over in a second, but it leaves my lips tingling and my heart slamming against my ribs.
I blink, caught off guard, my gaze darting around the room. "Liev?—"
He pulls back, his eyes dark with something unspoken. "Be safe,malyshka." Then he strides away, not looking back.
Etienne, who's been lingering nearby, raises an arched brow at me. His lips quirk in faint amusement, but he says nothing. Heat creeps up my neck.
Whatever.The job’s essentially over now.
I shoot Etienne a mind-your-business glare, and he shrugs, turning his attention back to the crowd.
Within twenty minutes, the party is down to the stragglers. I escort Keke to a small alcove at the back of the room for the priceless parure to be packed away for the last time. If fashion week goes ahead, Keke will be wearing the Atelier’s newest ruby line. With a polite nod, the Frenchmen are gone leaving Keke and me alone.
“I’ll text Dani to let her know we are getting ready to head back to the room.” I pull the new phone Liev purchased for me from my pocket. None of my apps or saved info is on it, but it works.
Bored, Dani and Marco went to the casino after the first half-hour of the event. I wait for Keke to object, to argue that she wants to gamble or go to the bar, but she just nods her head.
I’m typing when a shrill alarm cuts through the air, and red lights flash on the walls. A soothing, automated voice sounds from speakers placed around the building.
“Attention, guests. A fire has been detected. Please proceed calmly to the nearest exit. Do not use the elevators. Hotel staff will assist you.”
The room freezes for a single suspended heartbeat then erupts into a hushed urgency. Glasses clink down onto tables, and heels click on the marble floors as everyone hurries for the exit.
“Stay right with me,” I murmur to Keke, fingers firm on her elbow as we merge into the river of bodies streaming past on the promenade.
The alarm echoes louder out here, bouncing off the high ceilings and marble floors. The crowd is thick near where the casino spills into the lobby. Forward momentum grinds to a frustrating crawl. Black-polo-shirted security line the walls, directing traffic with clipped gestures.
My real worry is Keke growing restless and doing something attention-grabbing in front of witnesses. Fortunately, it seems as if most of the people around us are more interested in evacuating than scouting celebrities.
I scan for Dani and Marco but don’t spot them. They’ve probably been swept into the flow. Keke’s my priority.
Two men in identical security black uniforms, push through the crowd until they reach us.
“Keke Novak?” The taller one with a buzz cut asks in a no-nonsense voice. “We have a VIP evac path. Main routes are jammed,” he continues, taking Keke’s other elbow without asking, already steering us sideways out of the flow and down a side hall.
Something about this doesn’t feel right. My muscles tighten, and a cold prickle races up my spine. I glance at their badges swinging from their lanyards but can’t see them clearly.
“Hang on.” I plant my feet pulling us to a stop.
The second guard shoots me a glare. “Ma’am we have protocols,” he snaps.
