I was still trying to rein myself in, trying to scrape together some semblance of composure after Viktor's little game. My fingers were tightening around the edge of the desk when Viktor's phone buzzed loudly in his jacket pocket.
He checked the caller ID, his lips quirking just slightly as he glanced at me. "Your father," he said simply, like that alone was enough to silence any protest from me.
I felt my spine stiffen as Viktor answered with his usual calm detachment. "Yes, sir. Kairen just wrapped up his first board meeting." His voice was low and smooth, and I could practically hear the ice in it, a sharp edge that wasn't directed at me but somehow made my skin crawl all the same.
I watched, tension coiling tighter and tighter in my chest as Viktor listened. His eyes flicked to me, that faintly amused glint in them making me want to punch him in the throat. After a moment, he held the phone out toward me. "He wants to speak with you," Viktor said, his tone almost lazy, almost taunting.
I snatched the phone from his hand before I could stop myself. My throat was tight, dry as sandpaper. "Hello?"
My father's voice was as cold and sharp as ever, cutting through any false sense of calm I might have had. "Kairen. One of my associates—Andrei Volkov—is hosting a private dinner tonight. You'll attend in my place."
I blinked, my fingers tightening around the phone. "Is that really necessary?" I asked carefully, trying to keep my voice neutral, as though I weren't already seething from the day's events.
Dimitri's laugh was humorless, a low, menacing rumble. "After your little stunt, running off like a petulant child? You don't get to pick and choose your duties. You'll go. And you'll keep your mouth shut while you're at it."
My jaw locked, grinding against itself as I fought the urge to curse him out. "Fine," I bit out, hating the way my voice cracked just slightly at the end.
He hung up without another word.
I tossed the phone onto the desk with more force than necessary, the screen skidding across the polished wood. I could feel Viktor's gaze burning into me, as if he were silently enjoying my humiliation, his mouth twisted in that half-smirk he always wore like armor.
"What?" I snapped, my glare sharp enough to cut.
He just lifted a brow, his voice smooth and almost bored. "Nothing. Just curious how the dinner's going to go. You don't exactly seem thrilled about it."
I wanted to throw something at him. God, I wanted to throw something at him. But instead, I just dragged a hand through my hair, yanking at the strands until it hurt. My skin was crawling, my pulse erratic, something inside me screaming to claw out of this suffocating cage.
I needed… something. Anything to make me feel like me again. A hit, a warm body to lose myself in, something to dull the sharp edges scraping against my insides.
But I couldn't. Not here, not now, not with Viktor watching me like a predator waiting for me to break.
I met his gaze with a glare, trying to mask the raw ache gnawing at my ribs. "Don't you have something better to do than piss me off?" I muttered.
Viktor's smirk twisted, dark and knowing. "Not really," he said softly, stepping back just enough to let me breathe, though his presence still pressed against me like a weight I couldn't shake.
I let out a shuddering breath, sinking back into the chair, my mind already spiraling with the thought of that dinner tonight. Another performance, another mask to wear. And through it all, Viktor would be there, watching with those sharp, unblinking eyes.
"I'll let you be." Viktor finally said, already ridding me of his presence like the pest he was. I didn't say a word to him and barely looked up.
The moment he finally left the office, it was like the walls themselves exhaled, the air settling, thick and almost suffocating. My hands were jittering, my legs bouncing restlessly beneath the desk. I scrubbed my palms down my face, trying to steady myself. The edges of my vision felt too sharp, like I could see too much, think too much, and feel way too much.
I hated it.
The thought of that dinner tonight... it gnawed at me. I wasn't good with parties, not that kind at least, with masks and polite small talk, the way my father could slip between conversations like he was playing games. My stomach twisted just thinking about it.
I pulled out my phone, fingers fumbling as I opened my messages. Aisha still hadn't replied to the last message I sent her, but I fired off another one anyway.
You heard about this dinner thing? Are you coming too?
I watched the screen for a few seconds, waiting, hoping to see those three little dots appear. But nothing.
A sharp knock at the door jolted me, and I cursed under my breath as Jace stepped inside, carrying a thick stack of folders. His expression was apologetic, but firm. "There are a few more documents for you to look over before tonight," he said, placing them on the desk like an offering.
I wanted to scream, but instead I nodded, the tension in my shoulders ratcheting tighter. "Fine," I muttered, waving him off as I reached for the papers.
Work was something I could do. It was a lifeline, something familiar, something I could bury myself in. The numbers blurred together after a while, the words twisting and slipping between my fingers, but it was better than letting my mind wander.
Hours later, when the time to leave crept up like a monster waiting in the shadows, I found myself standing in front of the mirror in my suite, dressed in yet another suffocatingly tailored suit. The knot of my tie was too tight, the fabric stiff against my throat. My reflection stared back at me, pale and sharp-edged, my eyes hollowed out by exhaustion and nerves.
Viktor was waiting outside the suite, dressed up in his own severe black suit, looking like a fucking panther at a funeral. His gaze swept over me, lingering just long enough to make me feel like a bug pinned under glass.
I muttered something under my breath and excused myself into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. My hands were shaking as I pulled the bottle of tiny white pills from the hidden pocket of my jacket. I popped two into my mouth, dry swallowing them as the bitterness clawed at the back of my throat. I needed the edge off, needed to feel like I wasn't splintering apart.
From the other pocket, I pulled out the small bottle of tequila I'd smuggled in. I unscrewed the cap, took a deep, burning gulp, and felt it scorch down my throat, chasing the pills. My hands were steadier after that, the haze already starting to creep in at the edges.
I unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out, shoving the half-empty bottle at Viktor's chest without looking at him. "Here. You look like you could use it more than me," I muttered.
Viktor's hand closed around the bottle, but he didn't move. His eyes flicked over me, taking in the slight flush to my skin, the way I was breathing a little too fast. His mouth curved into that infuriating, knowing smirk.
"Show time?" he murmured, his voice low and dark and just a little too amused.
I rolled my eyes, straightening my shoulders as much as I could manage. "Let's get this over with," I snapped, already dreading the hours ahead.
The dinner was held at one of those places that practically bled money... private, secluded, with high, arched ceilings dripping with crystal chandeliers. The walls were hung with rich expensive curtains, the floors gleamed with polished marble, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the soft murmur of too-polished voices.
I felt like a fraud the second I stepped into the space, like everyone could see right through me, like they knew I didn't belong here. But I forced my chin up, smoothed my expression into one of cool indifference, and let Viktor's silent, looming presence at my back give me the backbone I needed to survive this.