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Nikki, who’d walked over with him, moves back to my side. And even though she’s doing exactly what I paid her to do, I hate her for it.
Mikhail lifts a shoulder. “Pity, I was starting to enjoy myself.” His eyes trail down the length of Nikki.
I don’t know if he’s trying to imply something, or get me riled up, but I don’t give two fucks if he sleeps with her. Now, if he so much as glances in Payton’s direction, I’ll rip off more than his finger.
“Sorry to hear that.” I raise my right hand to eye level and gesture with two fingers.
Mikhail watches, weariness finally landing on his features. Features eerily similar to those of a man I killed fifteen years ago.
Four of my men materialize around us, their dark suits blending in with the crowd.
“This is hardly necessary.” Mikhail tries to keep a smile on his face, but I can see his anger. Hell, I can feel it.
And I love it.
“Get the fuck out of my party.”
CHAPTER50
Payton
For the fifthtime in as many seconds, my fingertips swipe under my eyes.
Keeping my head down, I make my way through the crowd. I just want to get out.
I want to go home and pretend none of this happened. Pretend I never met Nero.
The bodies start to thin, so I finally look up, expecting to see the wide entrance to the event space. But instead, I see a wall.
What…
Confused, I spin around.
You have got to be kidding me.
The plane hanging from the vaulted ceiling is on the wrong side of the room.Iwent to the wrong side of the room. The giant arched entryway I came in through is on the complete opposite side of the massive room.
No no no.
“Champagne?”
I blink at the waiter who materialized next to me.
“No, thank you,” I respond automatically, before noticing the tray of flutes he’s holding. “Actually, yes, please.”
He gives me a polite smile, nodding to the tray.
I hesitate for one second before I tuck my purse under my arm and use both hands, grabbing a drink in each.
The waiter doesn’t bat an eye at my behavior, moving away and on to the next guest without another word.
If I was a normal person, who had alcohol in her apartment, I wouldn’t need to double fist it now. But I don’t like wasting money on booze, and tonight calls for getting drunk, so the least Nero can do is supply me with drinks.
Nero.
My heart nearly stops at the thought of his name. And in response, I raise one of the glasses of champagne, and gulp it down like a frat boy. The bubbles rioting in my throat.
A woman walks out of the wall ahead of me, and I narrow my eyes.
