Her eyes flash for a second, like she didn’t expect I would have anything to say.
Mila gazes up and down my body with a syrupy look of faux pity. “Well,” she murmurs, “you’ve certainly broadened your tastes, Roman.”
The words hit like a slap, sharp and hot. Before I can decide whether I’m going to respond with an insult of my own or simply toss the rest of my club soda in her face, Roman speaks.
“Careful,” he warns.
She laughs lightly. “Oh, Roman, I’m just playing around. No need to be dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic. I’m being patient. Perhaps more patient than I should.”
Her smile fades just a bit.
“You will not comment on her body again,” he says. “Not here, not anywhere.”
Her cheeks turn a deep red, her eyes widening as her hand goes to her throat as if shocked. “Roman, I didn’t?—”
He doesn’t let her finish. “She is beautiful,” he says simply. His tone is more like he’s stating a fact than offering his opinion. “And you’re embarrassing yourself.”
Her eyes flash again, an intense mixture of anger and humiliation. She lifts her chin and glides away, as if she’s the one dismissing us.
My heart is hammering, but I stay calm. I refuse to shrink.
Roman looks at me, his eyes dark. “Are you alright?”
I take a deep breath, letting my nerves settle. “I’m fine. But just so you know, I am strongly considering committing a major felony in the middle of the Art Institute of Chicago. So it’s probably not a good idea to leave me unattended right now.”
A faint smile of amusement tugs at his mouth mixed with a bit of pride. He takes my hand and strokes the back of it with his thumb. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
He leans in and kisses me gently on the lips. I practically melt on the spot.
“Now,” he says, “although this is a big night for me and my company, if you’re still feeling overwhelmed, we can leave. Tell me.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m good. I was just starting to have fun. Not a chance I’m going to let someone like her ruin what has otherwise been a lovely evening.”
He smiles. “That’s my girl. Come. There are more people I would like you to meet.”
We make our way to a few more groups, Roman introducing me to each person. Some are polite while others are cautious, some openly trying to figure out what I’m all about.
When we reach the bankers, I can tell who they are right away. They dress and carry themselves in a particular way, just like the Bratva men. These are the most important people at the gala to impress tonight. The IPO remains stalled, even after Roman brought Thomas Blair everything he’d requested. “They’re spooked,” he’d told me after his meeting with Blair. “They’re going to wait and see to make sure there are no more surprises.”
Roman hadn’t liked that news one bit. He wants the IPO back up within the week to make sure his timetables stay on track. I can tell by the tone of his voice when he talks about it that part of him worries the deal is already dead.
Roman nods toward a tall man with silver hair and a suit as perfect as his smile. “That is Douglas Callahan, VP of Silver Oak Holdings and a board member of the Art Institute. One of my biggest investors. He has the most sway over the others.”
“Is he the one who’s holding things up?”
“In a matter of speaking. If I could persuade him to get back on board, many others would follow suit. But he’s a tricky man.”
“Got it.”
Callahan turns to us as we approach. He flashes a row of perfect veneers, his eyes behind a pair of dark red glasses.
“Mr. Barinov,” he says smoothly. “I was wondering when I would get the chance to speak to the man of the hour.”
Roman takes his hand and shakes it. “Roman, please.” Then he gestures in my direction. “And this is Amalie Denning.”
His gaze flicks over me, assessing.When he offers his hand, I take it. “A pleasure, Miss Denning.”
