Page 78 of Feral King

Nerves. Stress. Six weeks of running on adrenaline with barely any sleep.

Thank God the bathroom is private. I stand and rinse my mouth, then fix my dress.

It’s gorgeous—midnight blue, floor-length, and off-the-shoulder. It fits snug through the bodice, then flows down from the hip. At first, I thought it was a little much, but the second I said those words to Julian, he insisted it was perfect.

The dress doesn’t apologize for my curves at all. Hell, it celebrates them. There’s an air of authority to it, like I don’t have a thing to prove, that I know who I am, and anyone who doesn’t like it can screw off.

Of course, looking like the woman in charge would be a little easier if I wasn’t feeling so sick to my stomach, but I’ll have to deal with what I’m given. When I’m certain the nausea has passed, I step out of the bathroom and into the event.

The place is alive with 300 guests, the room humming with conversation and music, and the type of energy you only feel when an event is working the way it’s supposed to.

I look around, my gaze landing on Elena Volkov. She’s holding court at the VIP table, pearls gleaming, while she gestures with her champagne flute as she speaks, effortlessly holding the attention of the donors gathered around her in a semicircle.

Julian is near the stage, speaking with a pair of syndicate heads. He wears a black suit with no tie, shirt open at the collar. The candlelight highlights the silver at his temples, making him appear more handsome than ever. He looks up, and somehow, across a room of 300 people, his eyes find mine.

I smile. His gaze softens, just for a second, just for me, before the stoic mask settles back into place.

I’m crossing toward the donor reception line when the atmosphere seems to shift. I feel the vibe before I see the people. The feeling in the air changes, and my stomach knots. Trouble’s coming.

Laura Volkov enters first. She looks amazing—no sense trying to deny it. She’s dressed in a long, cream-colored gown, her diamonds glittering beneath the light of the chandelier. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was royalty.

In a sense, she is.

Alexander trails in behind her, dressed in another one of his impeccable suits—this one navy. His hair is freshly cut, and his cuff links are flashy as ever. He practicallystrutsinto the room, like it’s his and he wants everyone to know it.

Sophia is at his side, looking gorgeous in a black gown with a daring slit, her lips a ruby red, her posture defiant.

They move through the crowd with purpose.

Then they move toward me.

Laura reaches me first, a prim, tight little smile on her lips.

“Lyra. So nice to see you.”

I offer a tight-lipped smile in return. “Laura. Likewise.”

She looks around, taking in the scene. “Such a lovely event. You must be so proud.”

“Thank you, Laura. I am.”

I’ve dealt with enough mean-girl bullies to recognize the strategy—nice and polite before slipping in the knife. I almost want to tell her to get to the barbs already and to quit wasting time.

She takes another look around. “Irina would’ve appreciated the attention to detail.” As she speaks, she surveys the room with the precision of a woman trained to notice flaws. “Though, I have to wonder if she’d appreciate her foundation being used as a stepping stone for someone trying to worm their way into our family.”

And there it is. I have to admit; it’s a good angle—taking the hard work I’ve put into this event and writing it off as nothing more than me trying to use them to rise above my station.

But it’s not going to work.

“My connection to the foundation is professional, Laura. I’m the event coordinator, and this is my latest event.”

“Professional.” Alexander appears at his mother’s shoulder, a smug little smile on his lips. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

I ball my hands into fists at my side for a second. I don’t want to give them even a hint that they’re getting the better of me.

“Alexander, let’s keep things civil. No reason to get personal about anything anymore.”

I want to give him an out. After all, the last thing I need tonight is dealing with a trio of bullies when I’ve got a million details to keep my eye on.