He turns and walks out, slamming the door behind him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Maxim
I want to gouge out the eyes of every man in this fucking room. Since Calina crashed into my life, that possessive rage has become a constant thing.
From the moment we stepped into the gala, their gazes have been glued to her. They try to be subtle about it, but I see it, the lingering looks, the way their eyes trace her body, the hunger they don’t even bother hiding completely. And I want to rip their eyes out so they can never look at what’s mine again.
I don’t know where this savage possessiveness is coming from. It’s only been a few days since she entered my life, and already I feel like a madman when other men so much as glance at her.
This is our first public outing since the engagement. After Artyom finally agreed to the two-week timeline, I made surethe news spread like wildfire through our circles. Tonight is the perfect stage to make it official.
I made sure to choose her dress myself this time, a long, elegant, sleeveless, dark blue gown that covers her completely. The fabric hugs her waist, accentuates the curve of her hips, and clings to the swell of her breasts before falling in a sleek line to the floor, slit up to the thigh but still modest enough.
After the stunt she pulled the yesterday, walking downstairs in nothing but sheer lingerie while I was meeting with my men, I wasn’t taking any chances.
It took every ounce of willpower I had not to put a bullet in my men’s heads for seeing her like that. She’s feisty. Stubborn. Reckless. I knew that. But I underestimated just how far she would go to push my buttons.
I won’t make that mistake again.
Calina’s hand rests lightly on my arm as we move through the crowded ballroom. Heads turn. Whispers follow us. And for the first time in a long time, I see real respect in their eyes, from the bastards who used to look at me like I was just an orphan playing at being Pakhan. Now they look at me differently.
Because she’s on my arm. Because the Morozov name is now tied to mine.
Bunch of fools. Bunch of idiots.
I glance down at Calina as we move through the crowded gala, and fuck… she looks incredible, hair swept up, diamonds I got her glittering at her throat, that defiant little chin held high. My ring sits on her finger like a brand.
Mine.
I tighten my grip on her waist, pulling her closer to my side as another man’s eyes linger too long on her. She tenses slightly but doesn’t pull away.
And she hasn’t said a single word to me the entire ride here. Not one. After the fight we had yesterday morning, the silence between us has been deafening. She’s been keeping to herself, staying in her room, avoiding me. No more stunts. She’s been quiet. Too quiet.
And that makes me suspicious.
What is going on in that head of hers? Is she plotting something? Planning her next rebellion? The thought both irritates and intrigues me.
I can’t stop thinking about the way her body reacted when I wrapped my hand around her neck. The soft, involuntary moan that slipped from her lips. The way she trembled under my hand.
I didn’t expect that from her. I thought she would fight me harder, curse me, slap me. Instead, she melted. That sound…that little moan has been replaying in my mind on a loop. It makes me want to drag her to the nearest room and do it again.
A server approaches with a tray of champagne. I take two flutes and hand one to her. She accepts it without a word, without even a nod, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
Before I can say anything, we’re approached by Ivan Anatolievich, the head of Pantheon, a society I’ve been trying to break into for years.
The Society’s a gathering of the 1% of the 1%. A hidden hierarchy where the true rulers of the criminal underworld meet. Power, bloodlines, and influence decide who belongs. Only the gods are allowed inside.
I’ve been trying to get in for years. Every application I submitted was rejected. My late father was a member, but because I wasn’t born an Orlov, because I’m the orphan who was adopted, they kept shutting me out. Especially Adrian Volkov, the vice president. That bastard has a personal vendetta against me for reasons I still haven’t uncovered. He’s the main reason my applications were denied.
Ivan’s sharp eyes flick between us, lingering on Calina for a respectful second before returning to me.
“Maxim,” he says with a slight nod. “I see congratulations are in order.”
“Indeed,” I reply, my voice smooth and measured as I slide my hand possessively around Calina’s waist, pulling her closer to my side. “Thank you, Ivan.”
He nods respectfully. “And this must be the lovely Calina Morozova.”
