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Mikhail stepped forward. The long strands of his ash-blond hair were swept back and tied into a ponytail. Dark tattoos peeked from the edge of his collar, never allowing someone to forget who he really was. A silver skull earring dangled at his right ear.
“I can’t wait to dance with you,” he whispered and leaned down to kiss my cheek.
A warm shiver ran through me.
“Let’s go and greet our guests,” said Yakim. “It’s going to be a long night for all of us.”
“Our stag of the party,” Mikhail muttered with a cough while the others chuckled.
Soon, I was being swept away by the Volkov siblings.
A different kind of emotion surged through me as I walked with them. It was impossible not to feel as if I were part of their tight-knit family.
Music reached my ears as we got closer to the ground floor. A moment later, I was led into the vast entrance hall of the manor.
I gazed all around me, wondering if I was in Volkov Manor. The dark, mysterious place was transformed into a well-lit, welcoming party hall. A massive chandelier glittered overhead. Flowers dotted every corner. Servers in red and black outfits flitted amongst the crowd, carrying trays of champagne andhors d'oeuvre.
The hall was already filled with guests. From all the warning Lilja gave me, I was expecting a sea of men. To my surprise, there were plenty of women in the crowd. Their luxurious gowns and jewels shimmered in the glow of the chandelier overhead.
Yakim moved closer and wound his arm around mine. “This is your last chance to bail,” he whispered in my ear. “You don’t have to be at my side.”
Tightening my hold on him, I pulled myself closer to him.
“Remember your positions,” he muttered to Leon and Mikhail and swept me into the crowd.
I felt the weight of people’s gazes on me. Most struggled not to ogle at Yakim but no one spared any effort on me. They stared at me without fear.
“So, she’s the one,” said an elderly man in his late seventies. “The Baldwin girl that you’ve started a war over.”
“Hello, Kosta,” said Yakim. “Looks like you’re still fighting that cancer.”
The old man scoffed. “I’d shoot myself before I let it kill me.”
Yakim led me away from the elderly man before he could say another word.
The next hour was spent on walking around the room, greeting Yakim’s guests. Most questioned his decision about starting a feud with Callum but he ignored them all, sweeping me away to talk to the next person.
I focused on the live band playing on a raised stage in the middle of the vast room. The music was tasteful, blending with the rising sounds of conversations happening all around us.
“Do you need a break?” Yakim whispered in my ear.
“Yeah,” I said. “My feet are starting to hurt already.”
He led me to a quieter corner and gestured toward an empty chair. I sat down gratefully and leaned against the backrest.
Yakim gestured at a passing valet.
The valet moved over to me and presented me with the tray. I chose a tartlet topped with swirls of thick orange cream. A bite filled my mouth with the taste of smoked salmon, sour cream, and a hint of parsley.
“The food’s delicious,” I said.
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“I don’t know...I guess the caterers Callum uses provide absolutely crappy food.”
A chuckle escaped him. Warmth deepened the color of his eyes as he stared at me. He chose a tart from the tray and gobbled the tiny morsel whole.
“I almost didn’t recognize you, Yakim,” said a female voice as the valet walked away.
