Page 79 of Feral King

“I’m just saying,” he says, shrugging with faux innocence. “Last time I checked, professional doesn’t involve spending the night at the CEO’s apartment. Or impromptu trips to New Orleans together. Or whatever is happening in Julian’s office behind closed doors.”

The guests at the nearest table have gone awkwardly quiet. They’re obviously listening in but trying to appear as if they’re not. I’ve got just a few minutes to defuse this before phones go up and the news of drama makes its way around the room.

“It’s amazing, Lyra, really,” Sophia says. “Most people might feel a little shame about swapping one brother for the next. But not you.”

The nausea surges again. But it isn’t nerves this time—it’s fury, bright and hot.

“Sophia, I may need to take another look at the guest list, but I’m pretty sure you weren’t invited.”

“I’m Alexander’s guest,” she says, lifting her chin. “Therefore, I’ve got every right to be here, despite your petty little blacklisting. If you want me to leave, you’re going to have to get security to drag me out.”

“Oh, I bet you’d lovea scene like that,” I say, unable to help myself.

A pleased smile forms on Laura’s lips as she takes a step closer. I can sense that she knows they’re getting under my skin as much as I wish it wasn’t the case.

“Lyra, dear,” she says. “I told you what would happen if you kept inserting yourself into this family. You’re playing dress-up in a world you don’t understand. Speaking of the dress—” Her eyes travel up and down, amusement flashing on her face. “Well, it’s doing quite a bit of heavy lifting, isn’t it?”

The heat hits my throat, traveling up my face and warming my cheeks. The old shame—Alexander’s shame, Sophia’s shame. The body I’ve spent months learning to love suddenly feels too big, too visible, too much.

Laura’s grin grows wider, seeing that her comment hit the mark.

“This is all too much for you,” she says. “And it’s plain as day. Why don’t you scurry back to the bayou where you belong—there are enough pretenders in this city.”

The shame turns to rage. I know I should keep my mouth shut and not make a scene, but I can’t help it. Call it Southern pride, call it whatever you want. But it’s there, and it’s hot.

I open my mouth to speak, but before I can get a single syllable out, another voice cuts through the air.

“Enough.”

Julian. I didn’t see him cross the room. But he’s now beside me, his hand on the small of my back.

Laura’s eyes flash. It’s all fun and games until the man in charge shows up.

“Julian,” she says. “We were just?—”

“You were just leaving,” he finishes. “Unless you’d like to explain why you three saw it fit to show up and insult Lyra in front of 300 guests at an event honoring my mother’s name.”

Laura’s face goes blank. Alexander’s jaw tightens. Sophia lowers her eyes.

“This is mymother’sfoundation,” Julian says, his tone low and threatening. “Her name is on the wall behind you. She built this foundation so that children who have nothing could have something. And you three dare stand before her name, at her event, using her legacy as a stage for your petty, vicious, small-minded—and frankly, childish—cruelty.”

Nobody moves. Nobody breathes. The guests around us have noticed the confrontation. And I can tell by the vibe shift that the rest of the room is starting to tune in to the fact that the CEO and the head event planner are in the middle of a heated conflict with the rest of the Volkov family.

We need to tamp this down— and quickly—before it’s all anyone can talk about, and before it’ll be all anyone remembers about the event that I worked so hard to make a success.

“Now,” Julian continues, his voice shifting back to a professional tone, sensitive to the idea of making a scene. “If you can’t behave with the basic decency that my motherwould’ve demanded of anyone in this room—family or stranger—then you are welcome to leave. Right now.” A pause. “Or you can sit down, close your mouths, and show some respect. The choice is yours. You have ten seconds.”

Laura’s composure fractures a bit. Alexander looks dumbfounded. And I can tell by the way Sophia is shifting her stance that she’s ready to rush out of the nearest exit.

“Ten,” Julian says, reminding me of a dad counting down for his kids, “Nine…”

“We’ll stay,” Laura whispers. “We’ll behave.”

Julian nods. “Good. Then sit down. They’re at table 14, right, Lyra?”

I snap to attention, my eyes flashing wide.

“Yes. Table 14 is where I have Laura, Alexander, and Alexander’s plus one.”