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Honestly, I didn't even want to be here to begin with. However, here I was, isolated from the crowd of affluent socialites sipping champagne and smiling in small clusters.

I sat on the steps, shoulders hunched in discomfort, hands fidgeting with the hem of my glittering knee-length black gown—which, by the way, wasn't my intention to wear. In fact, being here hadn’t been my intention at all, but I didn't exactly have a say in it, considering how cajoling my best friend could be.

Staying home, snuggled in my bed, eating popcorn, and watching a Netflix original series would've been a better option for me, but with Ravyn, I'd never been able to stand my ground.

She had a unique way of convincing me to do anything she wanted—anything at all. Maybe it was her superpower, compelling people to do stuff that, usually, they wouldn't do.

So, here we were at a house party filled with middle-aged moguls and high societal elites, flaunting designer attire and dripping in jewelry.

Ravyn Jensen—my blonde, blue-eyed, fearless, and determined seventeen-year-old best friend—was already mingling with the crowd like she wasn't underage. She'd always been a girl who could blend into any situation and be a part of any conversation without stressing.

Me, on the other hand…not so much.

One could say that I was the introverted one amongst the two of us—Ravyn and me. I never liked being in the spotlight or the center of attention, nor did I fancy being around many people, which was ironic considering how affluent and influential my father was.

But despite his wealth, I'd always loved a simple lifestyle, quiet and peaceful. Nevertheless, there was nothing simple or quiet about this house party, although that was debatable considering the serene environment: soft clinking of glasses, hushed conversations, and the classical music in the background.

However, there were tons of people here tonight—mature grown-ups, some of whom were bragging about their latest business ventures. Being around these men and women made me feel out of place, maybe because I was only eighteen and shouldn't be found in such a gathering.

Anyway, I was present—in solitude but present.

I recognized a lot of folks: Dad's business partners, his rivals, a few others from the upper crust, and some politicians as well.

Yep. Ravyn had outdone herself on this one because I couldn't even fathom how she managed to get us on the list of invited guests. That girl would never cease to amaze me.

Ravyn's parents, just like my father, were also influential and had friends in high places. But the difference between her and I was that she knew how to use her privilege to her own advantage.

My eyes roamed the space, drinking in the sight of all these impeccably dressed folks, mingling, networking, and having a good time. From what I gathered, Ravyn and I were the only teens around, and I was still snuggled up in my shell, feeling like I didn't belong.

“There you are.” Her familiar voice snapped me back to the present.

I shifted my gaze to meet her as she stood balanced on her heels at the base of the stairs, both hands on her waist.

Ravyn's piercing blue eyes bore into mine, her soft skin simmering in the lights as she stared at me with a playful scowl on her face. Her elegant high-slit red gown clung to her body like a second skin, accentuating her curves and plus-sized physique.

She folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head to the side. “Really, this is where you've been hiding all this time?” Her brows arched, mirroring the disbelief flickering in her expression.

“I…. I'm not….” I struggled with my words, stuttering with slightly shrugged shoulders. “I'm not hiding.”

“Oh, yeah?” Her brows narrowed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Then what're you doing sitting on the steps all by yourself?”

I rolled my eyes, shooting nervous glances around. “Uh…reflecting….” My response sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Oh, my God, you're impossible,” she whispered under her breath. Bowing her head, she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You knew that when you brought me here,” I said, my tone accusing.

“Yeah, I did, and I'm gonna fix that.” She sighed and jerked her head, catching my eyes.

“Fix what?” I cocked my head to the side, squinting.

“On your feet.” She stretched out her hand, wiggling her fingers in a beckoning gesture. “You're coming with me.”

“Where to?” I asked curiously, rising to my feet.

I knew that whatever she had in mind would go against my standards.

“You ask too many questions. Let's go—chop, chop.” She took my hand and helped me down the stairs. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look?” Her eyes roamed my petite frame, admiration flickering in their depths. “My God, look at the shape!” she exclaimed softly, whistling.

“Okay, stop.” I bowed my head, embarrassed, my cheeks flushing at her remark.

“If you knew how much you rock, you wouldn't be hiding up here. You'd be all over the place, flaunting your beauty,” she added, her face lighting up with a charming smile that infused me with an unexpected dose of confidence.

“Flattery will get you anywhere, Ravyn.” I chuckled, feeling my anxiety and tension slowly dissipating.

“I know.” Her carved brows danced above her eyes, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “Now, come on. Let's go enjoy the party.” She grabbed my wrist and pulled me along with her.

As we weaved through the crowd, a few heads turned, their gazes lingering over us. I wasn't sure why; was it because we looked good and attractive or because they realized we were minors? Whatever the case, I wasn't comfortable with the way those men stared at us.

My eyes dropped to the floor, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to exude the same level of confidence as Ravyn, but I just couldn't.

Her movements were graceful—elegant—and even her smile seemed genuine as opposed to mine, plastic and nervous.

“Relax, Lori,” she whispered, gently squeezing my fingers. “It's a party. Enjoy it. Everything's gonna be fine.” She stole a glance at me. “You just have to loosen up and live a little.”

Creases formed between my brows. “Easy for you to say. You're the life of the party, not me,” I said, flashing forced smiles at onlookers.

“You're right; I am, and the good news is, I'm here to guide you.” She glanced in my direction, her smile growing. “Just do as I say, and you'll be fine. I promise.”

Ravyn changed course, gliding toward the mini bar at a corner like a pageant queen on a catwalk.

“Uh, where—where are we going?” I asked, following up by her side. I hoped she wasn't about to do what I thought she was about to do.

A smirk lined her lips. “To get a drink.”

“Like hell we are.” I grabbed her hand, prompting her to stop in her tracks. A faint frown settled on my face as I spun her around to look at me. “Are you out of your mind?” I spoke in a hush, squeezing out a plastic smile as a few people walked past us, staring.

Ravyn paused, wearing a fake grin. “Nothing to see here, folks.” She shifted her gaze back to me after they left. “You're embarrassing us in front of these people, Lori,” she spoke through gritted teeth, her eyes darting across the space.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” I said, my tone laced with sarcasm. “How thoughtless of me. I'll try to be more inconspicuous next time.”

“Chill out, Lori.”

“Chill out?” I leaned forward, furrowing my brows. “I'm not 21 yet—and you're not even 18.”

“Okay, thanks for the reminder,” she whispered, returning my earlier sarcasm. “But one, nobody knows that, and two, it's just champagne, Lori.” She placed a palm on my shoulder, holding my gaze. “It's practically juice.”

I went silent for a moment, feeling my resolve melt under her persuasive smile.

“Look, have I ever led you down the wrong path before?” she asked, trying to make a point, but she ended up shooting herself in the leg.

I could think of more than a few times she'd done that, but I just tilted my head, arching my brows in disbelief.

“Alright, don't answer that,” she added immediately, letting out a soft sigh as she took my hand. “Come on, it's just one drink, okay? It won't kill you, I promise. Pretty please?” Her voice was dripping with honey, sweet and soothing, and she batted her eyelashes.

I groaned inwardly, hating my inability to resist her persistence. If I didn't give in, she wouldn't stop, and I didn't have the strength or the fortitude to argue with her.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Her eyes sparked with triumph, and I instantly regretted my decision.

“But just one drink,” I emphasized, my tone cautious.

“One drink, I promise,” she replied, crossing her heart, although the mischievous grin on her face said otherwise.

We headed toward the sleek bar, each grabbing a stool.

“Hey, handsome,” Ravyn said, winking at the gorgeous bartender behind the counter.

He jerked his head and shifted his gaze across the two of us, eyes squinting ever so slightly.

“Two glasses of your finest champagne, please,” she said to him, her lips curling into a smile.

He raised an eyebrow, a glint of shock lurking in his eyes, but he served us regardless, without a word.

“Thank you,” she said before he shifted, attending to other guests.

Ravyn handed me a flute, retaining her smile. “To new experiences!”

I let out a heavy sigh, clinking her glass. “Here goes nothing,” I whispered to myself, taking a sip.

Ravyn did the same and watched me, waiting for my reaction. “And?” Her brows arched in anticipation.

I looked at her, the champagne bubbling and fizzing on my tongue, surprisingly sweet. “Not bad.” My lips twitched as I tried to suppress my smile.

“Told you, didn't I?” She chuckled, taking another sip from her glass.

This was my first time drinking, and maybe it was the champagne kicking in, but I felt as free as a bird, light as a feather. And as the evening unfolded, I began to loosen up, relaxing a bit.

However, after a few more glasses—as requested by me—my head started to spin. Voices began to echo, and it seemed like the world around me was swirling.

“Ravyn…” I called softly, fingers rubbing my eyes. “I don't feel too good.”

“Yeah, me, neither,” she whispered, massaging her temple. “Just hang in there. I'll be back.” She rose to her feet, clearly in better shape and condition than I was. “I need to use the ladies' room.”

I heard her footsteps receding as I struggled to keep my eyes open, hands smoothing my wavy brown hair backward.

“What's a pretty girl doing, sitting all by herself at a party?” a masculine voice said, accompanied by the sound of shoes clicking against the fine floor.

His perfume enveloped the space around me, and I turned to face him, leaning with his hand on the countertop. He was looking at me flirtatiously, his tongue licking his lips.

Oh, God, no, I thought to myself. The man seemed to be in his mid-twenties—tall, lanky, and clad in a black suit that complemented the color of his hair. He was handsome but clearly a womanizer who just wanted to get between my legs.

I ignored him, alarmed by his friendly smile, which I found a little too cliché, but he was persistent, drawing closer.

“The name's Geoffrey,” he introduced himself, extending a hand.

I looked at him with a blank expression, trying not to seem rude even though I didn't want him around me. “Lorena,” I said without taking his hand.

He pursed his lips into a fine line, curling his fingers into a fist before dropping his hand, a little embarrassed. His eyes scanned the room for a moment as if to check if anyone saw that.

“Okay, Lorena, that was uncalled for, but I'll let it slide,” he said, beaming, his gaze locked on me. “You still haven't told me what you're doing sitting all by yourself.”

“I'm minding my own business,” I replied, shooting a quick glance at him. “You should try it sometime.”

His cheeks reddened immediately, his eyes blazing with fury, and his face contorted into a frown.

Usually, I'd never respond with this much sarcasm and rudeness, so maybe it was the champagne taking a toll on me.

“I see what you're doing,” he said, his face softening, that pesky little smirk returning to his lips. “You're trying to get rid of me.” He chuckled, leaning closer. “Hate to break it to you, honey, but I don't scare so easily.”

I didn't want him around, but I couldn't shake him off from the looks of things. Where was Ravyn when I needed her?

“What would it take for you to leave me alone?” I asked, all thanks to the alcohol in my system for this momentary boldness.

He flashed a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “How about your number?”

“No, can do, mister,” came my quick response, a faint grimace settling on my face.

“Then I'm afraid you're stuck with me,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

Now would really be a good time for Ravyn to show up and save the day because this man was becoming unbearable.

“What's going on here?” A thick masculine voice that sent tremors down my spine and stole my breath came from behind me.

I turned to face the speaker, and my heart skipped a beat as my eyes settled on him. This man, dressed up in an impeccably tailored black suit, stood tall in front of me, his piercing blue eyes locked on me like a hook to a fish. His dark hair simmered under the chandelier's soft glow, his imposing frame accentuating his ruggedness.

With a stern expression, he glared at me, his jaw subtly clenching.

“I…I…I didn't know she was with you, sir.” Geoffrey's words tumbled out of him in a nervous rush, his eyes widening in shock and fear.

His hands trembled as his gaze dropped to the floor, shoulders slumped.

“Beat it,” the man said to him without taking his eyes off me.

Geoffrey dematerialized without a moment of hesitation, and this newcomer, my savior, walked over to me.

I was a little tipsy, but I would always recognize Alexei Tarasov, a high-ranking Bratva boss with a reputation for his mercilessness and ability to hold a grudge. His charismatic presence always commanded attention and respect. The mere mention of his name inflicted fear in the hearts of his enemies.

He was my father's business partner, and we'd crossed paths a few times in the past, but I would never get used to his thick, scary voice. It always gave me the creeps.

“Hey!” I snapped, under the influence of the champagne coursing through my blood, as he grasped me by the hand, pulling me away from the bar. “Let go of me!” I tried to squirm from his hold, but his grip on my wrist was firm.

He didn't stop until we were outside, under the full moon and the distant stars. “Are you out of your mind?” he snarled, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and disappointment. “This is no place for a kid,” he blurted out, his tone harsh and stern. “And why the hell were you drinking? You're not old enough to do that.”

My brows arched at his words, appreciating the irony as an abrupt chuckle burst out of me. “That's rich coming from a man who literally breaks all the rules on a daily basis.”

His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as a scowl set on his rigid face, yet he didn't scare me. “You're still a child. You have no business here. You have no business drinking.” His brows furrowed, creases forming between them.

I felt a pang of irritation at his emphasis on me being a kid, and his hypocrisy only fueled my anger. My face contorted into a frown, my jaw clenching. “Oh, please don't lecture me on morality when you have none,” I said, my words razor-sharp. “Don't act like you care whether I'm old enough to drink or not when you don't.” My frown deepened, my gaze never leaving his.

He balled both hands into fists, seething in silence, angered by my disrespect.

In my defense, it was the champagne.

“You've broken more rules than I ever will in my whole life, so don't stand there and judge me like you're some kind of saint,” I spat, my voice laced with venom. I leaned forward and added, my tone dropping to a whisper, “I know what you are, Alexei Tarasov…. I know what you do.” I chuckled, fingers tracing the buttons of his white undershirt.

Alexei grabbed my wrist. “You're drunk. Go home.” He tossed my hand away, his tone harsh and aggressive.

I sucked on my teeth, gazing at him contemptuously as I rolled my eyes and walked away. My head was still spinning, my legs too weak to carry my weight as I staggered, struggling to remain composed.

Next time, I'd stay away from champagne and alcohol. As fearless as a few glasses of champagne had made me feel, I knew the after-effects would be a hangover and probably have me beating myself up for being so rude and disrespectful.

I would surely live to regret this.