Chapter 15

Lana

Under the chandeliers that drip opulence like the senator does insincerity, I’m here, playing queen of the damned dinner. Grigori, my shadow tonight, towers beside me, more fortress than man. Roman”s dodging me and I haven”t seen him since the other day, which suits me fine. His charm”s wasted on perimeter duty, but so be it.

Perez sits across, eyeing me like I’m the last piece of meat in the market. Hasn’t blinked once, the creep. Probably thinks it’s a power move. I”m not buying what he”s selling, not tonight, not ever.

Beside him, the senator from our delightful phone tete-a-tete, swirling wine like he”s auditioning for a sommelier’s gig. I can almost hear the rehearsed flattery itching to escape his lips. Save it, senator. Your charm’s as thin as your hairline.

Grigori leans in, whispers without moving his lips, ”Perez is too quiet.”

I nod, barely perceptible. Perez quiet is Perez plotting. ”He”ll open his mouth eventually.” I whisper back, the smile I flash Perez all teeth.

Under the glow of too-fancy lights, Perez raises his glass like he”s about to offer the world on a silver platter. ”To the future,” he declares, eyes locked on mine, making every word feel like a thinly veiled threat. I toast back, because what’s life without a little poison in your chalice?

The dinner wraps up, leaving us in the mess of post-meal mingling. The beach house is swarming with the kind of people who think too highly of themselves, each one a potential chess piece in my ever-complicated game.

Grigori”s at my side, silent as the grave, but twice as intimidating. “You think he’s planning a vacation?” I quip, nodding subtly at Perez. Grigori just gives me that look, the one that says ”I”m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

As I navigate through the sea of suck-ups and senatorial slimeballs, Grigori is like a shield, parting the waters of insincerity. Every now and then, I catch a glimpse of Perez, his smile too wide, his laughter too forced. My gut”s doing somersaults. Something’s off.

I”m obviously sober but I definitely need something to drink.

I”m standing there, in the eye of the social hurricane, when Grigori, ever the sentinel, melts away with the promise of something drinkable that won”t kickstart labor. The air”s already buzzing with too many unsaid things when Perez, like a shark scenting blood, decides it”s his cue.

”Enjoying the evening, Lana?” he starts, all smooth edges and sharper intentions.

”Thriving, Perez. Just missing the circus animals to complete the show,” I shoot back, letting my smile cut as deep as my words.

He chuckles, like we”re old pals swapping stories over a campfire, not predators circling each other. ”You always had a way with words. Speaking of, I”ve been hearing interesting things.”

”Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. ”Your sources might need recalibrating.”

”It”s about your... predicament.” He leans in, the word hanging between us like a noose. ”Rumors say you”re playing a very... intimate game of ”Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.””

I don”t flinch, refusing to show any cracks in my facade. ”Your new resource of information are rumors now?”

”Sources come in all shapes and sizes, my dear Lana. I just thought you might want to know how some people are perceiving your... situation.”

I tilt my head ever so slightly, a silent dare in my gaze. ”And what situation would that be, exactly?”

He leans closer, the smell of his cologne a physical assault. ”You know what I mean. When will you tie the knot? Or haven”t you chosen the lucky father yet?”

That”s when my blood hits boiling point. Bella”s loose lips are at the top of my hit list. That fucking Bella can”t keep her mouth shut. I”ll show her how to by sewing it shut.

”Single mother suits me just fine, Perez. And my lieutenants? They”re more family than you could ever understand. Uncles to the core.”

Perez”s laugh slices through the air, a sound so condescending it could curdle milk. ”Men, Lana, are territorial beasts. You think they”ll stand by while their ”niece” or ”nephew” takes center stage? Please.”

I roll my eyes so hard I fear they might get stuck. ”Territorial? Maybe. But mine have something called loyalty. Ever heard of it? ”

He smirks, that irritating confidence of his blooming. ”Loyalty is a fickle thing, darling. But, I have a solution. A... partnership, if you will.”

I”m already dreading the punchline. ”I”m all ears, Perez. Entertain me.”

”My brother, a fine man, unbothered by... let”s call it, complex paternity situations. Marry into our family, Lana. Consolidate our strengths. It”s either that or watch your empire crumble from the inside out.”

The audacity. The sheer, unmitigated gall. Perez is proposing a merger not of businesses, but of lives, using his brother as a bargaining chip. As if I”m some territory to annex, some prize to secure his family”s legacy.

Cracking under the fa?ade of social niceties, my patience shatters like the wineglass in my grip. With a flick of my wrist, the contents arc through the air, a crimson shower over Perez”s smug face. ”For a man with a parade of neglected kids and a wife you treat like yesterday”s news, you sure have the gall to lecture me,” I spit out, each word laced with venom.

Around us, the air electrifies, a storm of tension brewing fast. Grigori”s by my side in a heartbeat, a silent avenger ready to defend. Perez”s goons, a collection of muscle and bad decisions, look ready to jump at the slightest nod. But Perez, the eye of the hurricane, just sits there, drenched in wine, his calm unnerving.

He smiles. And I want to punch him in the face for it. He wipes his face with the back of his hand. ”That level of emotion,” he begins, gesturing with a hand that wears power like a glove, ”is exactly why your men are itching to betray you and go on my payroll – including the one outside scouting the perimeter, who accepted money to join my syndicate when you wouldn’t accept him as the father of the baby.”

The accusation slams into me like a freight train. Roman? Betray me? No, that can”t be right. I feel my head spinning but I can”t let him see me like this.

The world tilts a little, the ground less sure beneath my feet. Anger surges, a red-hot wave, but it”s the humiliation that stings, that cuts deeper than any knife. Betrayed. By Roman. The thought is unbearable.

Without another word, I storm out, Grigori at my heels, a silent shadow in my wake of fury. The garden, once a scene of delicate beauty, now feels like a cage, one I can”t escape fast enough.

Grigori knows me well enough to sense the tempest of emotions raging inside me.

”Is it true?” I ask. I need answers, and I need them yesterday.

He looks at me, ”I... I don”t know,” Grigori, the man who”s always one step ahead, who”s seen things coming before they even form on the horizon, is in the dark. And that scares me more than I”d like to admit.

”If this is true, I”ll kill him myself,” I declare, my voice a low growl of barely contained rage and hurt. The idea of Roman, of all people, betraying me like this is a betrayal of everything we”ve been through, everything we”ve fought for. It”s a knife to the back, a poison in my veins.

”Lana, let”s not jump to conclusions. We”ll investigate this, thoroughly. And if it turns out to be true...” He doesn”t finish, but he doesn”t need to.

I”m not known for my mercy.