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Sofia
Sensingthe shift in my emotions, Dad asked me to find my mother while he talked business with Zak. Thankful for a chance to have a moment to figure out what I was feeling, I excused myself and walked away.
The feel of Zak’s gaze on my ass was not responsible for the sassy sway of my hips as I left the room. But of course, that was a lie I told myself so I didn’t have one more thing to overanalyze once I was alone.
The moment I spotted a powder room, I went inside. As expected, it was crowded, and several curious heads turned at my entrance. I gave them each a small smile as I found an empty stall and stepped inside, locking the door before leaning back against it and closing my eyes.
What the actual fuck?
My hormones were all over the place, and my mind was racing a hundred miles a second. Zak was… Whoa. The way he’d made my body react so easily was… Holy shit. His friendship with my father… Well, that was definitely suspect. And did I really want to revisit how hurt—how my heart felt like it was actually breaking—when Dad said Zak had donated the Ural necklace?
That was the most confusing of all, and I didn’t want to touch it, but the lump still filling my throat wouldn’t let me ignore it.
When I first saw the necklace, something about it called to me. As if, in some strange way, I’d felt like it was made for me and only me. Which was ridiculous. And even more so was how I was reacting to Zak just giving it to the charity.
A huge part of me hoped it raised so much money for the women’s shelters that they were funded for decades. But that left a small part of me that wanted to snatch the necklace from the case and scream at Zak and everyone who had already bid on it to back the fuck up. It was mine, damn it.
But the reality was, I had no connection to that piece of jewelry. It didn’t belong to me, and it never would. I just hoped whoever won the auction for it loved it half as much as I already did.
The sound of sniffling coming from the stalls on either side of me caught my attention, and I grimaced. It wasn’t the kind of sniffles that came from someone crying or seasonal allergies and had everything to do with white powder. Blowing out a sigh, I used my heeled foot to flush the toilet that I hadn’t even used and opened the stall.
Quickly washing my hands, I didn’t make eye contact with anyone as I made my exit. Drugs were not my scene—never were and never would be. And I didn’t want anyone ever to think they were. Especially not when my family was one of the leading coke suppliers on the East Coast and expanding west.
I found my mother several minutes later. Dressed in a black dress much like my own, with her long red hair hanging down her back, she looked like an ageless goddess in the middle of a crowd, all eyes on her. She had a glass of wine in one hand that was still completely full. It was more for show than for her to consume.
When I was a little girl, Mom’s twin sister, Scarlett, donated her kidney to her. Mom had been diagnosed with juvenile diabetes at the age of three, and her kidneys began to fail her in her early twenties. Years of dialysis were followed by the urgent need for a new organ. From what I could remember of that time, as soon as Mom got the kidney from her twin, she’d been full of an energy I hadn’t ever seen from her until then.
For Scarlett, however, things had been a little different. Where my mother was given something she was in desperate need of, my aunt had something vital taken from her. It took her a while before her body recovered and learned to function on just one kidney.
Even as a child, I’d been scared for both women. But thankfully, they had each come through it eventually, and life had gotten back to normal for us all. As normal as our lives could be.
On the back of Mom’s arm was a small white disk that helped monitor her glucose levels, while an insulin pump attached somewhere on her abdomen. The little machine was tiny, easy to strap to her waist beneath her dress, and with the puffiness of her skirt, discreet enough to hide. Other than that disk on the back of her arm, no one would even know she had such a potentially dangerous medical condition.
Crossing the room, I linked my arm through hers. She leaned into me, acknowledging my presence without pausing as she explained a few of the things she hoped to accomplish with just one of the many women’s shelters. I doubted few of the people listening, most of them men, even cared what would be done with the money they were going to be donating.
No, they were simply enthralled with the animated way Victoria Volkov spoke. The passion in her voice, the conviction that she not only could, but absolutely would, do her best to protect the women in need who sought help at the shelters. Several of the men turned their attention to me, but my gaze remained on my mom’s face. Every time her gaze met mine, her expression softened subtly, but I saw the difference and felt her love like a gentle caress.
As soon as she paused, I cut in, excusing us from the group with the excuse that my father was in need of her. Keeping my arm linked through hers, I turned her toward the door. “Tell me about Zak Morozov,” I murmured so quietly that only she could hear.
A soft laugh escaped her. “I take it you’ve been introduced to him?”
“In a manner of speaking,” I said with a shrug. “Is he new to the city?”
“Yes and no,” she answered after a moment, seeming to consider her response before speaking. “He comes and goes at his leisure.”
“For business?” I cursed my curiosity, but there was no calling back the question once it was out of my mouth.
“And pleasure,” Mom commented casually, pasting on her dazzling smile as she nodded to someone who called her name. The woman lifted her glass of champagne as if to toast her, but neither paused to speak to the other.
Meanwhile, I was back to overanalyzing, unsure if I liked that last answer. What the hell did that even mean? He came to New York for the club scene and amazing food at some of the world’s best restaurants? Or to whore around?
And why did the latter possibility piss me off?
Inhaling slowly, I steeled my emotions and refused to allow anyone to see what I was thinking or feeling as Mom and I walked back to where I’d left my father with Zak. We passed faceless people, all of them the same, just different names I’d never bothered to learn. Honestly, they were all boring, gossipy assholes with too much money to burn and not enough brain power to know how to use it to save the world.
Dad and Zak were still standing in the same place, fresh drinks in their hands as they spoke like old friends. Pausing at the entrance with my mother, I took a moment to give Zak another once-over. I hadn’t considered his age earlier, but I had to put him at just under thirty, making him at least ten years older than me.
The way he stood so confidently beside my father was beyond sexy. With the two men standing in front of each other, doing nothing but having a conversation, the room still exuded a dangerous kind of aura that sent many scurrying from the room moments after they entered it.
