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From the corner of my eye I saw Kristoff having a drink with one of the largest men I’d ever seen. I darted behind a large vase. When my heart rate had returned to normal, I peeked around the side of the vase. He wasn’t looking in my direction, and I had a great view of his profile. Even in a crowd of people, he stood out. Not because he was taller than most men around him, but because there was a distance between him and other men. It wasn’t a physical distance, it was something else. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.
On a large sofa before the fireplace sat a group of women. I wondered which of them was Svetlana. Several of them glanced in Kristoff’s direction, though he didn’t seem to pay them any attention.
Feeling secure that I wouldn’t be caught, I made it through the kitchen into the backyard, lifting a flute of champagne from a server as he passed by.
I stood out of the way next to a pillar on the large patio. A few yards away, Angel was talking to some men. He frowned when he saw me, but one of the men drew back his attention. I hurried away.
The pungent smell of cigar smoke drifted across me as I walked past two men. One of them swayed on his feet and patted the other on the shoulder.
“Nazdrovya,Mikhail. You’re getting yourself a beauty tonight.”
So, this was the “ape” Miss Louboutin had discussed in the library. The fiancé-to-be of Kristoff’s ex.
I scurried passed them, keeping to the shadows.
“Girl,” Mikhail’s friend called after me. “Girl! We need more drinks, yes.”
Clearly, my dress didn’t differentiate me from the servants roaming around. Or perhaps he was too drunk to notice. Then again, compared to the other women who were dressed in everything from Prada to Pucci, my ensemble was pretty weak.
Ignoring him, I kept on walking until I couldn’t hear his rising voice ordering me to bring him more vodka.
My feet took me to Cerberus’ grave, next to the gazebo. The music faded into the background, the lights illuminating the house and yard became far away.
I realized I had chosen this place because it was the spot I’d last seen my mom. We had said our goodbyes in the backyard. Now, less than twenty-four hours later, I felt the loneliest I had ever felt in my entire life. Despair washed over me when I called her again and the phone went to voicemail once more.
This time I left a message. “Mom, I hope you’re okay. I…miss you. Please call me back.” There were a ton of other things I wanted to tell her, but I didn’t. She didn’t need me to add to her troubles. It would be my birthday in less than an hour. Surely she would call.
I walked up the steps of the gazebo, taking a sip from the bubbly liquid and shivering. This was so not what I’d imagined my eighteenth to be like.
I sighed. “It just feels wrong to drink my first drink all by myself.”
The sudden rustle of leaves to my left spooked me.
“You drink with us, yes?”
Two men emerged out of the semi-darkness of the garden. For a moment I imagined their forms were created out of fog and shadow.
I really need to cut down on my paranormal romance reading.
The one who had spoken, Mikhail’s friend, carried a bottle of vodka. Apparently he’d found someone to serve him after all. The stench of alcohol reached me and this was my cue it was time to leave the gazebo. But before I knew what happened, Mikhail and his friend had trapped me. The latter leaned against the stone wall, looking somewhat aloof.
He pushed his bottle toward me. “Drink.”
I shook my head. There was something in his gaze that unsettled me. I tried to leave again but his massive hand on my shoulder held me in place.
“You didn’t come when I called you.” Clearly, this was a sore spot for him.
“Maybe that’s because I’m not a dog,” I snapped.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m Boris Petrov. When I call, you come, understand?”
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t care less about who you are or what you want.”
Mikhail smirked. “This one has vodka on her tongue, Boris.”
Mikhail’s mocking tone set Boris off, because he grabbed my neck and pressed the bottle to my mouth. I tried to pull away, but my back hit the wall, reminding me I was trapped.
The champagne sloshed in the flute and it fell from my hand, shattering into a thousand pieces. When I tried to push Boris back, my ankle buckled and I fell forward. Hands outstretched, I landed right in the broken glass. Blood trickled through my fingers.
