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Nodding, I steeled myself, putting my game face on. I refused to show any weakness. Getting up from the vanity, I ran my hands down my dress for the night, taking one last look in the mirror. Gathering my clutch, I walked past him into the living room to find several of his men dressed in tuxedos, waiting. Taking a quick look at them, I said nothing, even though they all looked perfect.
I refused to give them any ammunition.
Making sure I had everything I needed, Max walked up behind me, placing his hand on my shoulder. Shrugging him off, I tried to step away from him when he grabbed my arm.
“You know the rules,Moya Lyubov. You will be at my side the entire night. Wherever you go, I go. Understood?”
“Perfectly,” I said, yanking my arm away from him.
When he held out my coat for me, I narrowed my eyes, taking it from him, refusing to let him have the satisfaction. Throwing it over my arm, I pressed the button for the elevator. Seconds later, the doors opened, and I walked forward, as did everyone else.
Surrounded by Maxim and his men, I knew tonight was going to be a nightmare.
And I was right.
It was a nightmare.
One of my making.
The club was hopping as I entered to find the grand re-opening in full swing. The music was pumping through the speakers as women danced and performed on the stages around the room. Waitresses moved quickly through the sizeable crowd of partygoers, delivering drinks while happily conversing with the patrons. Everyone was here. From high society to local businessmen.
I ensured that no one was left out.
Even the paparazzi milled about snapping pictures of the event, eager for their pictures to grace page six of the New York Times. Tonight, there was a veritable collection of who was who in the New York society.
Making my way through the crowds, I smiled and greeted everyone. Speaking with each guest as if they were the most important person in the room. A trick I learned from my mother.
“Bunny!” I squealed, hugging the vibrant wife of the Morgan Chase Bank CEO’s wife. Bunny Wilford was the head of the women’s societal lunch league. She was a sweet woman to those who adored and kissed her ass. And a fucking raging bitch to those who opposed her. The woman had her head so far up her own ass, she probably swallowed her own shit.
“Illyria, my dear,” the woman greeted, quickly air kissing my cheeks. “What a lovely dress. Is that Dior?”
“Valentino,” I smiled, quickly turning so she could get a good look.
“Ravishing, my dear.”
“I just love your gown. Such a beautiful color on you. Makes you vibrant and delish!”
Bunny grinned. “You always say the most wonderful things. I must say,my dear, it surprised me when I received your invitation. I had no idea you were venturing into the club scene. And to think you kept this all to yourself. Not even a little hint!”
I laughed. “I wanted to surprise everyone.”
“Well, you did just that, my dear. This place is something else,” she said, eyeing one of my dancers, Violet, as she slowly slid down a pole, wearing only a thong.
“Bunny, let me introduce you to Maxim Fedorov.”
Bunny stiffened, then grimaced. “We’ve met.”
“Mrs. Wilford.”
“Mr. Fedorov.”
“Oh, there is Elana Stevens. I must talk to her about next week’s luncheon. You will be there right, my dear?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Quickly air kissing one more time, Bunny scurried off as if her ass were on fire.
“Fucking cunt,” I heard Maxim mutter, as he downed his scotch.
