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He shakes his head, his misty blue eyes swirling. “Don’t tell me,” he says, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “Show me.”
They’re almost on mine. I can feel the warmth of his breath. But a second before he makes contact, I hear a scream.
We jerk apart. Ilarion’s body whips up straight with alertness.
“Stay here.”
Of course, I don’t listen. I follow him as he charges back into the ballroom. There’s a crowd of people clustered in the center that we have to fight our way through.
“Celine!” Ilarion calls. “Dima! Mila!”
“Ilarion!” Dima’s voice calls back from the center of the crowd.
The guests part and I see Celine on her knees. Mila is standing over her, face pale and furious.
“What happened?” Ilarion demands as he moves towards Celine.
I stand there, desperate to go to my sister, knowing that she probably doesn’t want me anywhere near her. But then, she looks up and she makes eye contact with me.
“It’s D-Dad,” she stutters. “We were talking when two masked men busted in. They grabbed us both, but Dad fought back to try and protect me. They knocked him out cold and…and…”
She starts sobbing and Mila takes over. “We heard the commotion and busted into the room, but they were already leaving with Archie. They would have taken Celine, too, if we hadn’t arrived when we did.”
“Blyat’,” Ilarion growls.
I drop to my knees in front of Celine. Her eyes are wild with terror as she grips my arms and squeezes. “They’re going to kill him, Taylor,” she gasps. “We’re going to lose him.”
“No,” I say firmly. “No, we’re not. Ilarion will get him back.”
I glance up at Ilarion, but he’s not meeting my gaze. He turns to Dima and Mila, both bristling with pent-up energy.
“What does this mean?” Mila asks her brother.
Ilarion smolders. “It means that Benedict has turned down my truce.”
53
ILARION
The party disperses immediately. I end up in a car with Celine and Taylor as we race back to Zakharov House.
Celine sits on the far left, her gaze directed out the tinted window. Taylor is on the right, pulling at her nails until the manicure starts peeling away and piling up in her dress. The silence feels ridiculous, especially since there’s so much to say.
“You can drop me off at the penthouse,” Celine says abruptly. “I’ll spend the night in the city.”
“No, you won’t. I’ve just smoked Benedict out of his hole. There’s no telling what he might do.”
“He has mydad,” she hisses.
“And he wanted you as well. He would have succeeded, too, if you hadn’t gotten very fucking lucky.”
She flinches as though I’ve reprimanded her. “The penthouse,” she repeats.
“It’s not safe.”
“I don’t care. I need space.”
Taylor flinches; there are lines on her forehead that I’ve never seen before. “Cee,” she interjects softly, as though she’s not sure she has the right to say her name. “Can we talk?”
