Page 102 of Bleed with Me

“Does it matter?” I shrugged, sipping my champagne. “He got your family a seat at the table. Zyon protects his ass. What else would you want in this city?”

“When you say it like that…” Lucas trailed off, staring at the gathered people. The music stopped, and the chatter quietened as Valeria Zhumagulov stepped before the microphone.

Beautiful was too weak a word for Zyon’s wife. The woman looked ethereal in a silver gown that poured over her like liquid moonlight, diamonds wrapped around her throat, and cherry-red hair cascading down her bare shoulders and back.

“Terrifying family,” Lucas muttered beside me, glancing at a smiling Zyon at the bar. He couldn’t be prouder and more in love with her. It glowed from his every pore.

“Which one?” I asked quietly, keeping an eye on the other bosses.

“All of them.”

Valeria thanked the guests softly, surprisingly composed under the attention of over a hundred predators pretending to be civilized. I only listened halfway, my gaze continuously drifting through the ballroom, searching for one specific face.

Dorian.

I only spotted him once since entering the party. He stood beside Valeria near the staircase earlier, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit with the top button undone. His attention stayed entirely on her while she spoke, his expression softer than usual. Jealousy coiled low in my stomach, but he vanished before I could make a move.

The following couple of hours turned into a slow social execution. Lucas and I moved through the ballroom, exchanging polite smiles and shallow conversations with people I’d known for years.

Men who once shook hands with my grandfather barely held my gaze. Women lowered their voices when I approached. Some greeted me warmly before quickly excusing themselves; others pretended not to notice me at all.

Valentino.

The name followed me like a stain no amount of makeup could cover.

“They’re scared to be associated with you,” Lucas said bluntly after another awkward conversation died within thirty seconds.

“Noticed.”

I took a slow sip of champagne, frowning at my father across the room. He didn’t pay much attention to me as he fought the same battle.

“At least you’re still the prettiest bitch in the room.” Lucas poked my side with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, and I snorted. He was the best.

Eventually, the only person willing to remain near us was Matilda Santangelo. She lingered beside a marble column in a pale pink gown, beautiful in a fragile, almost ghostly way. Her large dark eyes constantly swept the ballroom as if expecting danger.

Since her mother’s murder shattered their family, Matilda hadn’t spoken. But something had changed in her over the past few weeks. She was still scared, but determined to go out. Nervous, but trying to overcome it.

Lucas softened immediately around her. When she refused champagne, he switched to water without making it awkward, and gently pulled her into our conversation until small smiles appeared on her face.

For a while, it almost felt normal. We gossiped about other guests’ outfits, their newest escapades, and how fucking hypocritical they were. Matilda passed us quickly written lines of information she had gotten from her sister or grandmother, making me gasp a few times.

But the best news was that Dorian and Malin officially declined to marry into their family. Suddenly, Zyon’s desperation to get Ramzan out of jail felt much more understandable. He needed to keep his word. It had been seven months since he agreed…

Matilda’s warm hand cut through my thoughts as she gave me another note. I took it with a smile, yet it quickly transformed into a surprise. Lucas peeked over my shoulder, his expression matching mine. The note said:

Will you please teach me how to fight? I want to be like you.

I gaped at the words, unable to reply. Like me? Who in their right mind would want to be like me?

“Nina.” My father appeared on my left side, stirring me. “Why aren’t you with your fiancé?”

I heard him, but my gaze was still glued to Matilda’s pleading eyes. There was so much pain in them, so much grief and torment.

“Yes,” I whispered, returning the paper to her. A grateful smile ghosted her lips, making my heart jolt.

“Nina,” Dad repeated impatiently, stealing my attention. “Sonny is on the balcony.”

Lucas grimaced as if he swallowed something spoiled.