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My brow arches as I glance at Konstantin questioningly. He meets my gaze, just for a second. No smugness, no pride. Just a soft smile and a quiet nod as he turns back to the Dean.
“And it will continue to do so,” he says calmly.
The Dean beams. “I know this is very short notice, but if you and Miss Craft have no plans this evening, I know my wife would be honored if you joined us at her charity event. It’s one of her favorites, a children’s hospital fundraiser.”
I open my mouth to politely decline. Konstantin beats me to it.
“We’d be honored.”
“Excellent! I’ll have the invitations couriered to your hotel.”
As the Dean walks off, I spin toward Konstantin. “I thought we were doing dinner and exploring L.A. nightlife?”
“Tara, you don’t turn down invitations like that if you want a job here.”
I fold my arms. “I don’t bribe my way into things.”
“You’re not. You’re demonstrating your intelligence and social awareness. It’s part of the game. Play it.”
I groan. “I didn’t bring cocktail wear.”
He flashes a grin. “Luckily, Rodeo Drive’s still open.”
He’s worse than Irina.
Two hours later, I’m staring at myself in the mirror inside the penthouse suite. I can’t believe I let him buy the damn dress. Deep emerald green, off-shoulder, cinched at the waist and flowing over my hips like silk poured over skin. It makes my hazel eyes look like polished stone. Gold flickers catch in the light when I turn my head.
I add nude heels, a gold clutch, soft makeup, and a twist in my hair. A small voice in my head whispers,You look like you belong.I’m not sure where I belong. I quickly shake off the negative thoughts.
I step into the hallway at the same time Konstantin exits his room and I freeze.
Holy God.
Konstantin in a tuxedo is… devastating. There’s no other word. The black silk lapels frame broad shoulders. Crisp white shirt. Bow tie. His hair swept back. He looks like the villain in a spy movie—the one every woman wants to kiss before she dies.
His eyes sweep over me and his mouth curves into something dangerous. “Absolutely stunning.”
My throat goes dry. I need a drink. Except—fuck. I can’t drink.
It’s going to be a long night.
We arrive at the venue just after eight. The Dean greets us like old friends, but I notice it—he’s more excited to see Konstantin. That name. That wealth. I can’t blame him. Still, he makes a point to introduce me to several of the faculty, including someone from the physics department. “Rising star,” he calls me. I should feel flattered. Instead, I feel exposed.
The ballroom is gilded elegance, every table decked in florals and glassware, crystal chandeliers reflecting golden light across the polished floors. I find a spot on the edge of the room with my club soda, feeling like a fraud in a world built for royalty.
I glance at a nearby server. Champagne sparkles on his tray.
Just one sip.
I raise my hand.
“No,” a voice rumbles close to my ear.
I jump, nearly dropping my glass.
Konstantin’s behind me, a little too close, his breath warm against my neck.
“I’ll find some apple juice for you.”