“Fuck, I forgot about the party.”
I roll onto my stomach to kiss his neck. “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For being here, for caring for me. I’m not used to being treated as if I’m—”
“The most important thing in my life. You are. Nothing matters more than you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Layla
“Frankie, my old friend. It’s good to see you.” Nikolaj reaches out to embrace Frank.
As a pedigree Mafioso, he’s in a snow-white suit with a brown coat draped over his shoulders, a cigar in his mouth, and burgundy shades on his nose. If he had a hat, he’d look like Al Capone. Almost.
“Nikolaj, it’s good to see you too.”
I stand to the side, nauseous, when Nikolaj hugs me as if I’m his daughter, although he wouldn’t accidentally grab her ass. Mrs. Capone, Tamara, blows two kisses in my direction before admiring my long, backless dress. Her compliments fly over my head. I do my best to play my role, smile and praise her earrings. In my head, I’m throwing up a rainbow.
Julij joins half a minute later. He’s also in a suit, but he’s not trying to imitate The Godfather. He’s grown into a man since Dubai. The mocking expression he wore back then is no longer in sight. He shakes my father’s hand, greets my mother, and approaches me. “Layla. You’re prettier now.”
Julij, ugly as always.
“Hey, Julij. How was your flight?”
I don’t want to be here. All the more because Dante was right. I’m sore. I want a hot water bottle between my legs and Dante’s chest to cuddle for the rest of the night.
But I’m here, warily gawking at Julij, who offers me his arm. The hallway’s bursting at its seams now that Nikolaj’s people have arrived. Frank’s pawns, including Adam, are having a blast in the living room, standing in strategic places, not moving a muscle.
The first hour of these soirees is reserved for business talks, so I’m not surprised to see Frank lead Nikolaj to his office. Jess, the gracious hostess, shows her guests around. I have no choice but to accept Julij’s arm. We snatch two glasses of champagne from a passing waitress on our way out the back door.
“I owe you an apology, sugar.”
My eyebrows form a line as I tilt my head, studying his face. We don’t know each other well, and the only impression he made in the past was strictly negative. Until now, I had no idea he knew the meaning ofsorry.
“What for?”
“For my behavior in Dubai. I’m not usually such an idiot.”
He doesn’t sound like he’s teasing. Besides, it’s been four minutes, but I haven’t felt the need to smack him yet.
“Is it Dubai or the alcohol that turns you into an idiot?”
“You do. Or did.” He shrugs, attempting to hide a smile. “I guess I tried to woo you.”
Julij’s face would’ve been soaked in champagne if I hadn’t already swallowed. “Are you kidding? You call that wooing?”
“Rough advances?”
“Rough? They haven’t invented a suitable word to describe the kind of ass you were!”
He laughs out loud. “You’re still so polite. An ass is an understatement of the century. I was a fucking dickhead.”
“Polite? “Do you know me? Were you really trying to hit on me? By throwing me in the pool and arguing every minute of the day?”
“I liked that you talked back.” He smirks, his light blue eyes sparkling. “You didn’t let anyone walk all over you.”