Page 88 of The Bratva Betrayal

"He left."

"Because you scared him off."

“Then you picked the wrong man to dance with.”

“I did not.”

“You want a man who isn’t scared of confrontation or a man who runs at the first sign of it?”

"You've been following me," she accuses.

"I'm here for the children's literacy program."

"Artem…”

"You look like trouble in that dress."

"Is that a complaint?”

"It's an observation."

Her eyes move over my face. "Why are you actually here?”

"Business."

"Manifold's here.”

"I know."

I watch her think.

“Where’s Misha?”

She scoffs. “Probably fucking someone.” I perk a brow. “I’m not as dumb as you think.”

“Never said you were.”

“Good. Keep that mindset.”

“Break up with him.”

She averts her gaze away from me, annoyed. “I can’t.”

"Come with me."

I don’t wait for her to agree, guiding us off the dance floor to a storage room off the east corridor. It’s small and smells like cleaning products and folded linen, and when the door closes behind us, the noise of the gala drops to a muffled hum.

Cady turns with her arms crossed and her chin up. “Talk.”

"Misha owes Lucas Manifold three million dollars."

“Three million dollars? That’s impossible.”

“It’s true,” I grind out. “I found it.”

I turn her around and walk her backward until her shoulders meet the wall with a little grunt that comes off her lips.

“Focus, lisichka. I’m not telling you this shit because I’m bored.”