Oksana points up toward the VIP section. Through the crowd and shifting lights, a figure stands at the railing. Tall, broad-shouldered, raising a drink in our direction.
“Damn, Matvey Baronov is gorgeous,” Klara says, sighing dramatically. “Offensively hot.”
“I don’t know, I’ve always been more into Demyan.” Yeva grins. “He’s got that whole ‘I might be a serial killer’ vibe going on. I like a man with some chaos in him.”
“Of course you do.” Klara laughs. “You’ve always had terrible taste in men.”
Rada touches up her lipstick, not bothering with a mirror. “Kirill’s the most powerful brother and he’ll rule the empire someday. Why settle for anything less?”
Oksana snorts. “If power’s all you care about, why not just go after his father? He’s literally the pakhan.”
“Because Kirill’s hotter and I’m not into old men.” Rada drops her lipstick back in her clutch. “Besides, Ruslan will have to step down eventually. Kirill’s the future. I’m thinking long-term.”
My fingers tighten around my water glass. Irritation flares, catching me off guard. I’m using Kirill too, in a different way. So why does Rada talking about him like he’s a prize to be won make me feel like strangling her?
“So what do you say?” Oksana looks around at us. “Should we crash this party?”
I flash her a bright smile. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
CHAPTER
TWELVE
KIRILL
My sister’sfrustrated sigh crackles through the phone. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s a few days in Manhattan. I’ll stay at your penthouse and I won’t go anywhere alone, I promise!”
I shift the Bugatti into park in front of Apollon, letting the valet wait while I finish this conversation. “Not this week, Katya.”
“But Papa’s in Russia this week. The timing is perfect. We can go shopping, see a show, try a new restaurant. Maybe hit a club.”
“Nice try.” I laugh. “Clubs are off limits until you’re legal, and even then you’re not going near one without an army of guards.”
“Oh my God, you’re impossible!” Her exasperation bleeds through the phone. “I’ll be an old lady before you let me have any fun at all.”
“Depends on your definition of fun. If rom-coms and crocheting are your thing, have all the fun you want.”
“Bozhe moy,”she mutters. God help me.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. You’re impossible. And I’ll remind you that I’m old enough to marry.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty fucked up now that you mention it.”
“What’s going on that I can’t visit my brothers?”
The longing in her voice tugs at my chest. Katya’s been isolated for too long, stuck in the estate with guards and tutors and nothing resembling fun. But with the Ghost operation less than two days away, I need her as far away from Manhattan as possible.
“You remember the Ghost, the reason Ruslan wanted to force you into marriage. We’re about to make a move on them with the Italians.”
“Wait, you’re working with the Valentis? How did that happen?”
“It’s a short-term partnership our fathers don’t need to know about. I’m pulling up to Apollon right now for Elio Valenti’s birthday party.”
“Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately,” I grumble.
