The ballroom was on three. When the elevator doors opened, I murmured to her.
"Remember, tonight you just need to be yourself."
She looked up at me, surprise flashing in her eyes.
"Be myself?"
"Yeah," I said. "Those old fools have seen enough fake debutantes and calculating social climbers. Your honesty and directness will actually make you stand out."
"What if I accidentally curse someone out?" she asked.
"Then curse," I said. "I'll clean up the mess."
The elevator doors opened again.
The ballroom's double doors stood open, classical music and low conversation drifting out.
I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders.
"Ready, firecracker?"
"Ready, boss."
We walked into the ballroom together.
Every conversation paused for a heartbeat when we appeared.
Countless eyes turned toward us—or more precisely, toward Vivienne beside me.
Her arm tightened slightly, but her expression didn't waver. She lifted her chin, a perfectly calibrated smile on her lips, looking like she'd grown up in rooms like this.
I swept the room discreetly.
The Marchetti family sat by the windows—Carmine holding a glass, talking to someone nearby. Seeing me, he raised his glass in salute. I nodded, didn't approach.
Old Volkov and Derek hadn't arrived yet. Good.
"Mr. Volkov!" A familiar voice came from the right.
I turned to see Senator Thompson approaching with his perpetually beaming wife.
"Good evening, Senator." I extended my hand.
"Good evening, Nikolai." Thompson shook it, eyes settling on Vivienne. "And this lovely lady is?"
"My fiancée, Vivienne Cole."
Mrs. Thompson's eyes lit up immediately.
"My goodness, Mr. Volkov, I had no idea you were engaged!" She pressed her hand to her mouth dramatically. "Miss Cole, you're absolutely stunning! Is that Valentino?"
"Yes, ma'am." Vivienne smiled. "You have excellent taste."
"Your style is impeccable," Mrs. Thompson gushed. "When I saw this collection in New York last week, I fell in love, but my husband said the color was too bold—"
"Darling, we should make the rounds." Thompson interrupted, smiling apologetically at us. "Excuse us."
After they left, Vivienne murmured, "That woman talks a lot."
