Dancing For the Don

A mouth like a switchblade

Elena’s POV

Julian Volvok, or whoever the hell he thought he was, was officially the most insufferable man in New York, and now I’m trapped in a moving vehicle with him.

After listening to Legend beg like a handicap in his presence, I had no choice but to accept. Without looking into his eyes, that is. What is his problem with me?

I’ve never met the dude, but he’s so determined to ruin me.

The gown Julian forced me into felt less like luxury and more like a beautifully tailored, suffocating cage.

As the car moved, we didn’t even look at each other. Not even once. The silence in the back seat was so heavy you could chop it with a knife, until the car stopped abruptly, leaving me to lose my balance and fall right onto his lap.

“Sorry about that, sir,” the driver called out nervously from the front.

Julian didn't even acknowledge him. Oh, so I’m invisible then.

He tried to push my head up violently, but as I twisted to the side, a sharp pain shot through my scalp. I realized my hair was caught on his cufflinks.

“I’m not gonna bite your d**k, chill,” I hissed in pain, glaring up at his frozen expression.

He looked down at me, his eyes dead and unreadable. “An umbrella before it rains.”

I bit my lip, ignoring his stupid riddles. I tried to break my hair free from its b*****e myself, but then I remembered my red lipstick.

If I wasn't careful, it would smear across his expensive suit or stick to my teeth like a tomato crumb.

He lowered his head after a deep, annoyed sigh. He didn't say a word as he gently moved the loose strands of my hair away from my face.

“Move the hell away from me,” I voiced, my hands flat against his chest.

“I don’t want you laying there if you don’t mind,” he muttered, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly pitch. “So just keep quiet and let me help.”

His brutal, calloused fingers caught against my scalp as he unthreaded my tangled hair from his glittering cufflink. It was an intimately close proximity that made my blood boil.

I can’t deny the fact that his hands are soft, but the expensive cologne that oozed from his wrists made him smell like a protective man—one that I want away from me right now.

As soon as he finished, I bounced away from his lap, instantly fixing my hair and pulling out my compact mirror to touch up my makeup. I watched his eyes scrunch at me through the reflection, his face hardening without a word.

“I’m not saying thank you,” I snapped, snapping the compact shut with a loud click. “It’s your fault anyways.”

He let out a low, mocking scoff and shook his head in disbelief, his dark smirk making it clear my anger was just a joke to him.

Turning away from him, I looked out the glass. The glittering New York skyline cut through the dark window like shattered glass.

The moment our car slowed to a crawl near the entrance, the blinding white glare of camera flashes began leaking through the tinted windows like a relentless strobe light.

When the door opened, the night became a loud wall of sound. There were security guards shouting on my left side, and a sea of photographers pushing aggressively through the metal barricades.

Reporters kept screaming our names, shoving microphones past the guards.

“Mr. Volvok! How do you feel about being here with Miss Vance tonight? Is this a new corporate partnership?”

“Miss Vance, he saved your dying company! Despite your elite image, how did you agree to this deal so quickly?” Another voice dashed through the haze, sharp and biting.

“Miss Vance!”

“Mr. Volvok, look over here!”

Julian put his heavy hand on my waist and pulled me tight against his side as we stepped into the freezing cold air. My eyes looked him up from head to toe, taking in the perfect, fake smile he effortlessly slapped on for the media.

Under his breath, he thinned his lip and shook his head mildly.

“Bear with me for a few hours,” he murmured, his grip on my waist tightening just enough to warn me. “It’s not that hard, Elena.”

As if, fucker!

Walking up the steps with his hand locked around my waist felt like facing a firing squad of lenses. Every single photographer was sweating, trying to get a picture of the billionaire CEO and his star ballerina.

Nikolai’s POV

“Volvok, what a surprise to see you here.”

A sharp, feminine voice struck from a short distance just as Elena and I grabbed drinks from a passing tray.

I turned, my eyes narrowing slightly. It was Adeline Moretti—the Consigliere and true mastermind behind her son Melvin. Her son represents the brutal, chaotic muscle of the Moretti family, but she represents the cold, strategic intellect.

Ugh!

“Mrs. Moretti, it’s been a while.” I smoothed my features into a polite, wealthy mask.

Elena turned in an instant, sipping her drink and smiling elegantly. Looking at her pristine expression, one would think the words that normally come out of her mouth match her graceful face. But I knew better.

“I didn’t think I would see you here, Julian,” Adeline said, her eyes calculative and dark as they took in my tailored suit. She wore a heavy black silk dress that practically dripped with blood money. “An arts gala... it’s just not... your style.”

It’s not your style either, you old hag, considering both our hands are filled with the blood of others.

“Anything to help the needy,” I replied smoothly, casting a brief glance at the girl beside me.

Elena choked on her drink, coughing repeatedly into her napkin. Adeline tilted her head, her sharp eyes taking in Elena's reaction with terrifying precision.

“Sorry, dear. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Elena choked out, her face flushing. She shot me a cold, lethal glare that could have pierced body armor.

Then, she held out her hand, her eyes smiling perfectly. “I’m Elena Vance. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs...?”

“Adeline Moretti,” the woman replied, letting out a laugh that sounded exactly like a typical, out-of-touch rich woman. She didn't take Elena's hand, instead looking her up and down. “You don’t need an introduction, dear. You’re known worldwide.”

Elena smiled, crinkling her eyes and nose in that fake, endearing way women in high society do. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“I can’t wait to see you at Swan Lake this year,” Adeline murmured, her tone dripping with an underlying threat I knew all too well. She was looking for a reaction. She wanted to see if the rumors about the studio’s bankruptcy were true.

I smirked, taking a slow sip of my champagne. “You mean, you hope to see her.”

Elena rolled her eyes so hard I thought they would pop right off her face. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Moretti,” she greeted tightly.

She turned with the clear intention of passing me, but she stopped just an inch away, leaning in so close her breath brushed my ear. “You thought you ate, didn’t you?” she whispered venomously.

I blinked, keeping my eyes fixed ahead. “What does that mean?”

She gave no reply. Before she could walk away and leave me with a rival syndicate member, I reached out and firmly grappled her wrist. She stopped dead in her tracks, shooting me a disgusted gaze.

“Ugh, what?” she hissed under her breath.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“You might not have an excretory system because you’re a robot, but I do,” she snapped. She ripped her wrist from my grip and walked away toward the restrooms, her heels not making a single sound on the marble floor.

Is it because she’s a ballet dancer? Why the hell is she so light on her feet?

“What is your business with that young lady, Nikolai?” Adeline asked the moment Elena was out of earshot, her voice dropping the high-society sweet tone entirely.

“It’s Julian right now,” I reminded her, my voice turning ice-cold.

“Secret identity, I see,” Adeline mused, swirling the wine in her glass. Her dark eyes locked onto mine. “She has the money, doesn’t she? The four billion her father took?”

“You’re getting a bit too old for this, Adeline,” I leaned in slightly, my expression deadpan. “Next time, send Melvin. I don’t mind suffocating him to death if he blows my cover.”

Adeline didn't even flinch. She just gave a cruel, knowing smile. “The whole dock knows you’re too soft for that, Nikolai.”

I chuckled hard with my throat, a dark, humorless sound. “Try me, and you’ll find out.”

I dropped my drink onto a tray carried by a nearby waiter and walked off without giving her another second of my time.

I cut through the crowded ballroom, heading toward the quieter corridors near the back exit. Suddenly, Kobe appeared from the shadows, walking swiftly toward me with a panicked look on his face.

“Don!!” he whispered harshly.

I grabbed his collar, pulling him into a dark alcove. “Shut your trap, Kobe! Is everyone just trying to blow my cover today?!”

“Sorry, sir,” he squeaked, straightening his jacket.

“I told you to wait in the car.”

“Yes, sir, I know,” Kobe whispered, glancing around to ensure no one was watching. “It’s just... the drug is here. The contact just dropped it off.”

My heart dropped into a cold, steady rhythm. The playful banter with Elena was over. It was time to get to work.

“Oh. So it’s time then,” I murmured.

Kobe nodded grimly. “It’s time.”