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I follow his gaze across the room. Lukas has moved to a different cluster of guests and is now shaking hands with an older man in a military-looking jacket covered in medals. Even from here, I can tell that General Whoever-the-Fuck is absolutelyfawningover the infamous Lukas Lazarev. I’m surprised he hasn’t fallen to the ground to start licking his boots.
“It makes no sense.Heinvitedme,” I mutter. “Picked out my dress, sent a car, the whole nine yards. And now, he won’t even?—”
“Welcome to the Lukas Lazarev experience.” Kir’s jaw tightens. “He collects. He displays. He admires from a distance. Getting actual acknowledgment? That’s rare. Gotta be earned.”
“Earned how?”
Kir doesn’t answer. He just finishes the last of his champagne and sets the empty glass on a passing tray.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s mingle.”
I dig in my heels. “I really, really don’t want to mingle.”
“They’re notallvampires and leeches, I promise.” He’s pulling me toward a group of people near the stage. “There are some decent humans here. I’ll introduce you.”
“Kir—”
“Relax, Rae.” His hand presses firmer against my back. “You’re at a party. The least you can do is try to have fun.”
Before I can protest further, we’ve arrived at the group. Three women, two men, designer everything, perfectly white teeth all around.
“Ladies, gentlemen,” Kir announces with a broad smile. “I’d like you to meet Rae Everett. She’s the most indispensable member of our team at Lazarev Global.”
I blink at him.Indispensable? Since when? Who is this strange, charming, courteous man I used to call a tyrant?
A woman with a sleek black bob extends her hand. “Yara Soto. I run PR for the Lazarevs’ charitable foundation.”
“Hi!” I shake her hand. Her grip is firm. “Nice to meet you.”
“And this is David Barrera,” Kir continues, pointing to a tall man with kind eyes. “He handles our international partnerships.”
David nods warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Everett.”
“And Ariel Villegas, of course,” continues Kir. “She runs half the society events in Manhattan.”
Ariel, a vivacious redhead in gold sequins, waves a manicured hand. “Only half. I’m slacking.”
“Rae’s been handling some sensitive projects,” he explains to the group. “My father poached her from me, actually.”
“Is that so?” Ariel raises a dubious eyebrow at me.
“I didn’t have much say in the matter,” I admit.
Kir grins. “She’s modest. Don’t let her fool you. He couldn’t keep his hands off her.”
I smile and keep doing the rounds. Names fly past me. I forget most of them immediately. But Kir keeps his palm on my back the whole time. He fills in the gaps when I stumble over small talk. He makes me sound interesting, accomplished. Funny, even. It’s kind of him.
“You’re good at this,” I murmur when we finally break away to grab more drinks.
“At what?”
“Being charming. Making people like you.”
He shrugs. “It’s a survival skill. When you grow up the way I did, you either learn it or you drown.”
I think about growing up in Lukas Lazarev’s shadow, learning to smile and perform while your father watches—or, worse,doesn’twatch—from across the room, judging everything.
“Must’ve been hard,” I say quietly.
