Page 142 of Barinov

Izzy’s grandmother’s massive heart-cut ruby necklace. A drop of blood-red so saturated it almost glows against Ellie’s pale skin.

“I hate this,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. “Ellie being the bait.”

Lex wraps his strong arms around me from behind, the scent of leather and spice washing over me.

“She’s with Briggs, babe,” he says, pressing a kiss to my neck. “The guy’s a walking armory. He’ll keep her safe.”

“Don’t worry, Cade,” Tex’s deep voice vibrates in my ear. “We’ve got eyes on her.”

He’s perched up in the rafters over the stage. Kenji’s up in the back corner near Knox’s DJ booth. The two of them covering all exits and angles.

“Good evening, everyone,” Knox’s smooth voice rolls through the overhead speakers. “Thank you for joining us tonight.”

Lex’s fingers lace with mine in a firm grip. He tugs me toward one of the tables closest to the stage. We take our seats just as the last of the chatter fades. The energy in the room tightening into something more focused.

“It gives me great honor to introduce to you our host for the evening,” Knox continues, his tone easy and practiced. “The man behind Atrum Fortuna… Mr. Roman Russo.”

Applause breaks out. It’s measured at first, but then builds as Roman steps into the light on the stage. He lifts a hand, the crowd quieting without him asking to.

“Thank you for being here,” Roman begins, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room, though I can see the slight tension in his neck from here.

“Tonight is a very important night for me. The Izzy Foundation was built in honor of someone I lost. Someone who deserved more time, more understanding, more…” Roman cuts himself off, his mouth twitching for a heartbeat. He swallows hard, hand drifting to his chest to rub at the phantom ache that still haunts him.

“More patience than the world gave her,” he finishes, his voice lower now. “Tonight, we’re not just raising money. We’re building something that ensures others struggling with their mental health don’t fall through the same cracks that my Izzy did.”

A few quick claps break out.

He takes a breath, a shuddering intake of air that ripples through his frame before pulling himself back together.

“Over the past few months, I’ve had the opportunity to get to know some of the people closest to my daughter, Isabella.”

Lex’s hand finds mine under the table.

“Now they didn’t know it at the time,” Roman says, gripping the edge of the obsidian podium, “but I was doing a little bit of my own research.”

“Research?” I whisper to Lex.

He shrugs.

“Getting to know who they are at their core.” Roman’s gaze sweeps over the room. “What they want in life. What really matters to them. And I found some very interesting things and met some incredible people along the way.”

Roman’s eyes land on our table. “I’m grateful,” he says, softer now, his steel eyes a little wet. “Truly. That my daughter has each and every one of you in her life.”

Lex exhales quietly beside me.

“So when we had this idea to create the Izzy Foundation,” Roman continues, his voice regaining its edge. “I decided to expand it. To build something greater. And more importantly, to recognize someone who embodies what this foundation stands for at its core.”

He pauses for a second.

“Haley Rosethorne, would you come up here please?”

Haley rises slowly from her table. She moves through the crowd with a quiet, almost hesitant grace, the shimmer of teal sparkling as she passes between dark silhouettes and low-lit tables.

O’Malley’s already on his feet by the time she reaches the stairs. He offers her his hand without a word and guides her up before slipping back into the shadows like he was never there.

Haley steps onto the stage. Her hands fidget lightly with the fabric of her dress as she comes to a stop beside Roman, shoulders pulling in ever so slightly.

“Most of you might know Miss Rosethorne as a dancing heartthrob.”