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“Thank you,” I murmured, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow. His suit was perfectly pressed, and he smelled faintly of cedarwood and something sweet I couldn’t place.

Inside, the birthday party was in full swing. Laughter echoed off the high ceilings, and music pulsed through the mansion. Guests mingled in clusters, champagne flutes in hand, their voices blending seamlessly into the celebratory atmosphere.

I spotted Katya near the bar, her dark hair shining under the chandelier. A small crowd surrounded her, drawn in by her easy charm and that bright laugh I was familiar with. She looked radiant, confident, and happy. It made my heart warm just to see her relaxed like that.

I led Robert through the guests, clutching the wrapped notebook in my hands. When she saw me, her face lit up, and she reached out without hesitation.

“You’re here! For a moment, I thought you weren’t coming, and—oh, my God! Girl, you look amazing! I’m loving it.”

“Forget me. Tonight’s your night! You’re the real star here, dressed in glimmer and diamonds.”

We squealed like excited maniacs. “Happy birthday, Kat!” I laughed, offering her the gift.

Her eyes softened. “You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t, but I wanted to.”

She hugged me tight and pulled back when she noticed my arm candy. “Oh, I’m sorry….”

“Kat, this is Robert Stone. My boss.” I gave her a look that conveyed more than my words did, and she hummed knowingly. “Robert, this is Kat, the celebrant and my best friend.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Kat. I must say, you have a very beautiful home.”

She smiled, but I knew my friend well enough to see that the shine didn’t reach her eyes, so I quickly intercepted.

Leaning in his side, I whispered, “Uh, Rob, can you excuse us for a minute to—”

“To catch up on some girlie stuff while I busy myself at the bar and flash unsolicited bright smiles to strangers? Sure, I can do that. And you’re welcome. It’s not a bother. I’ll feast my eyes on more interior luxuries while I’m at it.”

The smile of appreciation on my face was genuine, and I gave him a small hug before whisking Katya away from the bar.

We stood near the center of the floor, concealed by thick pillars adorned with gold velvety backdrops, while over a dozen guests talked loudly over each other.

Grabbing two champagne flutes from a passing tray, Katya glanced over my shoulder and wiggled her brows toward Robert’s direction.

“So, your boss, huh? I mean, no judgment on the employer-employee thing. Low-key, he’s kind of a hottie…giving thirty-year-old Leonardo DiCaprio vibes.”

“Robert’s thirty-eight.”

“Ah, way o lder. That’s a shocker.”

I laughed between a gulp, careful not to spill my drink. “Wait, Leonardo DiCaprio vibes? So, then he would be my Jack, and I’ll be his Rose?”

She tapped her cheek, seriously thinking about it before shaking her head disappointedly. “No, because then he’d drown, and you’ll live with a terrible heartbreak for the rest of your life. And he seems like he’s pretty chill.”

“Why does it always have to end tragically? Besides, I think I’m more of a James Franco girl. Cute smile, dark hair, that sort of thing.”

“Isn’t that the guy who played Harry Osborn? The one who wanted Peter’s girl?”

“To be fair, they were best friends, and he liked Mary Jane first before Spidey came along.”

“What movie did you watch?” She snickered. “And since when are you a Spider-Man fan? You used to swoon over Superman in high school.”

“Not Spider-Man, just his mini-nemesis. And sometimes, don’t you just think Superman’s overrated?”

“Doomsday: Superman was certainly not.”

My blood ran cold at the sound of that voice, and I froze mid-laugh, the sound catching awkwardly in my throat.

I recognized it because, after that night, it had been a struggle to forget the voice that breathed my name between hot, fiery kisses. The same voice that aroused sinful desires and harshly rejected me seconds after I’d deluded myself into believing we’d shared a special moment.

First the Gipsy, then Tsar’s, and now Katya’s birthday party?

Was he stalking me? More importantly, why didn’t I genuinely feel upset if he was?

I turned around, almost melting into a puddle, the effect of seeing him again since the unplanned meeting at Tsar’s Steakhouse.

He stood so close to me, the heat and electrifying scent of his body wrapping me in a bubble. He was tall and composed in a charcoal suit that looked like it belonged in a Bond film—custom-cut and sharp enough to slice through the tension crackling between us.

His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and just for a second, it felt as if we were back at the club—pressed too close, lips tangled, sighs mingling.

Except now, I stood between him and my best friend, who was still not aware of my encounter with this mysterious Russian stranger.

“Who do we have here?”

His question confused me, but it left me even more baffled when I realized that it was directed to Katya.

They know each other?

My head snapped to her, and I worried more when her smile faltered, the edges twitching with uncertainty. She glanced between us, brows barely knitting before she plastered on a phony sunnier grin.

“This,” she said, her hand gesturing toward me, “is Elena, my best friend.”

Then, she looked at me, and my stomach dropped.

No, hold on….

“And this is my…father, Elena.”

I almost dropped the glass.

Her pause before “father” was barely a heartbeat, but it landed like a brutal punch to my gut, knocking all the air out of my lungs.

Father.

The same one who abandoned her when she was just a girl. The one who’d spoiled her with all the finest and most expensive things and opportunities life could offer. The one who should have been some aging corrupt politician who favored his wealth over his daughter.

The one I detested?

It was him ? Damien… Yezhov?

“Ah, so this is the Elena I’ve heard too much about.”

Slowly, I looked back at him and swallowed hard, heat creeping up my neck.

I’d kissed this man, fantasized about him, and almost willingly lost my virginity to him in the heat of passion. And he turned out to be my best friend’s freaking father ?

Of course, he looked old enough to have kids, but seven or ten-year-olds, and not a full-grown woman like Katya, for Christ’s sake!

Damien didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. His expression didn’t give away a thing, but I was dying inside, still feeling the ghost of his mouth against mine.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly, offering his hand.

I couldn’t even look at it the same without remembering the pattern of ink curled underneath his sleeves and how rough they felt against my cheeks when he cupped them.

But I—like a complete idiot—took it.

“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Yezhov.” My fingers trembled just slightly against his. Katya didn’t notice. But he did. “I’m sorry, I…Kat, I need to go grab another drink.”

And I walked away without another word, my heart beating like crazy in my chest.