Page 70 of Boardroom Sins

I follow his gaze across the room. Lukas has moved to a different cluster of guests and is now shaking hands with an older man in a military-looking jacket covered in medals. Even from here, I can tell that General Whoever-the-Fuck is absolutelyfawningover the infamous Lukas Lazarev. I’m surprised he hasn’t fallen to the ground to start licking his boots.

“It makes no sense.Heinvitedme,” I mutter. “Picked out my dress, sent a car, the whole nine yards. And now, he won’t even?—”

“Welcome to the Lukas Lazarev experience.” Kir’s jaw tightens. “He collects. He displays. He admires from a distance. Getting actual acknowledgment? That’s rare. Gotta be earned.”

“Earned how?”

Kir doesn’t answer. He just finishes the last of his champagne and sets the empty glass on a passing tray.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s mingle.”

I dig in my heels. “I really, really don’t want to mingle.”

“They’re notallvampires and leeches, I promise.” He’s pulling me toward a group of people near the stage. “There are some decent humans here. I’ll introduce you.”

“Kir—”

“Relax, Rae.” His hand presses firmer against my back. “You’re at a party. The least you can do is try to have fun.”

Before I can protest further, we’ve arrived at the group. Three women, two men, designer everything, perfectly white teeth all around.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” Kir announces with a broad smile. “I’d like you to meet Rae Everett. She’s the most indispensable member of our team at Lazarev Global.”

I blink at him.Indispensable? Since when? Who is this strange, charming, courteous man I used to call a tyrant?

A woman with a sleek black bob extends her hand. “Yara Soto. I run PR for the Lazarevs’ charitable foundation.”

“Hi!” I shake her hand. Her grip is firm. “Nice to meet you.”

“And this is David Barrera,” Kir continues, pointing to a tall man with kind eyes. “He handles our international partnerships.”

David nods warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Everett.”

“And Ariel Villegas, of course,” continues Kir. “She runs half the society events in Manhattan.”

Ariel, a vivacious redhead in gold sequins, waves a manicured hand. “Only half. I’m slacking.”

“Rae’s been handling some sensitive projects,” he explains to the group. “My father poached her from me, actually.”

“Is that so?” Ariel raises a dubious eyebrow at me.

“I didn’t have much say in the matter,” I admit.

Kir grins. “She’s modest. Don’t let her fool you. He couldn’t keep his hands off her.”

I smile and keep doing the rounds. Names fly past me. I forget most of them immediately. But Kir keeps his palm on my back the whole time. He fills in the gaps when I stumble over small talk. He makes me sound interesting, accomplished. Funny, even. It’s kind of him.

“You’re good at this,” I murmur when we finally break away to grab more drinks.

“At what?”

“Being charming. Making people like you.”

He shrugs. “It’s a survival skill. When you grow up the way I did, you either learn it or you drown.”

I think about growing up in Lukas Lazarev’s shadow, learning to smile and perform while your father watches—or, worse,doesn’twatch—from across the room, judging everything.

“Must’ve been hard,” I say quietly.