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I step forward, wrap my arm around Zenya’s waist and draw her away from Jozef and back to my side. “It’s a good thing that her uncle was around to save her.”
Golubev is watching me closely, and for a moment, hatred flashes through his eyes.
Then he’s smiling again. “You’re staying in the city, are you, Kristian?”
I return his fake smile. “Of course. Protecting my brother’s heir is my number one priority.” I gaze down at Zenya and feel my smile grow warmer. “Isn’t it, princess?”
Zenya’s lips twitch in amusement, and she reaches up to brush my hair out of my eyes. “I haven’t talked to a man without you breathing down his neck since your return, if that’s what you mean.”
Her fingers skim past my ear and brush the nape of my neck. Before she drops her hand back to her side, I take hold of it and press a kiss to her palm. “No, you haven’t.”
I hold her gaze because I love to look at her, and because I want Golubev, his son, and everyone watching to witness that Kristian Belyaev doesn’t give a damn about anyone in this room except Zenya.
I turn to our host. “Enjoy your party, Yuri. There are people Zenya should meet.”
As we peel away, I catch the flash of anger in Golubev’s eyes and laugh to myself. He’d dearly love to marry his son to Zenya and get his greedy hands on even more power and money. He probably thought he only had Troian to deal with, but there’s only one thing worse than an overprotective father.
A jealous uncle.
I walk Zenya deeper into the party guests, and there are people we should stop and talk to, but I keep my arm locked around Zenya’s waist and steer her away from anyone who looks like they’re about to approach us. Despite what I said, I’m unwilling to share her with anyone tonight, and most of the people who turn her way are men. She’s looking dangerously beautiful tonight, and all of them, married and unmarried, are entranced by her beauty.
A man steps into our path, forcing me to draw Zenya to a stop. I glare at the man.
Sergei Lenkov, an arms dealer. He’s as tall as I am, with long, dark hair and a thick beard. From the looks of him, Sergei’s been hitting our illegal steroids hard.
“Miss Belyaev, how wonderful to see you again,” Lenkov says with a sharp smile, completely ignoring me.
I glance at my niece and see she’s giving him the smallest smile possible. “Hello, Mr. Lenkov.”
“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs, his eyes roving all over her body. “It would be wonderful for us to meet so we can discuss how better I can support your family’s work.”
Lenkov sources good weapons, but nothing that I can’t get elsewhere, especially if it means keeping him away from Zenya. I’ve never liked Lenkov because he has a habit of stirring up trouble among the Bratva families. It benefits his weapon sales when we’re all at each other’s throats.
I give a humorless laugh and pat his shoulder, hard. “Sergei, it’s a party. We don’t want to talk about work.”
Before he can say another word, I lead Zenya around him and into the crowd.
“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath.
Zenya gives me an amused smile. “That asshole asked Dad for my hand.”
I turn and glare at him. That nobody? Un-fucking-believable.
Three men gaze open-mouthed at my niece as we pass by, so I gather her closer to me and stroke a silver-blonde curl back from her face, murmuring in her ear, “I didn’t think I needed to bring a weapon with me to a birthday party. Now I’m regretting that I didn’t.”
“You shouldn’t touch me so much,” Zenya says, placing her hand against my stomach, but she doesn’t push me away. “People are going to think there’s something strange going on between us.”
I smile and run the blade of my nose up her cheek, breathing in her delicate scent. “Oh? Like what?”
She parts those lush red lips in a pant. “We don’t need any more rumors swirling about the Belyaevs right now.”
I bite my lower lip and pull it through my teeth as I gaze at her. I wish it were her lip. She’s so fucking delicious. “No one gives a damn what I’m doing to you. If people are staring, it’s because you’re the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen. But if you’re feeling so shy all of a sudden, I can fix that.”
I lead her by the hand down a corridor and into a side room on the pretense of showing her Golubev’s renowned art collection, and the chatter of the party guests disappears behind us.
“Jozef is handsome, don’t you think?” Zenya asks conversationally, but there’s a smile hovering around her lips as she gazes at an abstract painting in purples and blues.
Instantly my irritation spikes, and I look at her sharply. “He won’t care whether you’re happy or not. Marrying him is out of the question because he’s only interested in your money and power.”
