The voice comes from just behind me.
I turn.
An elegant woman steps up beside me. Her gown is striking—both sexy and classy at the same time—and her hair is pulled into a tight, sleek bun on top of her head. She carries herself with the quiet confidence of someone who knows exactly who she is.
She smiles at me.
I smile back instantly, liking her already.
“You can’t stomach alcohol like me, huh?” I joke lightly.
She scoffs in mock offense.
“I’m Russian,” she says. “I drink alcohol like tea.”
I laugh.
She chuckles softly and leans a little closer, lowering her voice. “I just prefer to keep my head clear at gatherings like this.”
Then she winks.
“Oh.” I hold out my hand. “My name is—”
“Sweetheart, everyone here knows who you are,” she interrupts smoothly. “It kind of comes with the territory of being the Rusnak bride. Hi, Ellie. I’m Valeria Petrov.”
I take her hand and shake it. Her grip is confident, firm.
“Are you married to someone here?” I ask.
She immediately pretends to gag.
“Please,” she says dramatically. “No man here is worthy of me. The one who wants to marry me will first have to bow at my feet and worship properly.”
I burst out laughing.
“I like you,” I say. “Who are you?”
She tilts her head, amused.
“I know that’s a rhetorical question,” she says lightly, “but I’m the first daughter of Fydor Petrov.”
I blink. “I don’t know him.”
Valeria leans closer again, lowering her voice like she’s sharing a scandalous secret.
“He’s the biggest crime boss in the country,” she whispers. “But don’t tell anyone.”
I widen my eyes dramatically and pretend to zip my mouth shut.
She grins.
Right then, the bartender sets our drinks in front of us.
Valeria immediately grabs her glass and lifts it toward me. “Cheers?”
“Cheers,” I echo.
Our glasses clink softly, and we both take a sip.
