Page 30 of Under Control

Relenting, she slipped her glasses back up her nose and found everything was much easier to see. Carrick nodded subtly in the direction of Andriy, who wasn’t even halfway across the room, hovering over table six. Her lips parted as she looked back to Carrick.

But he’d already looked away.

A waiter walked by, handing her a fresh wine glass, and she took it gladly, needing way more wine than what she’d had. She gulped the chilled substance, feeling it go straight to her bones. Guests slowly found their way into the hall, milling around to chatter and drink, smelling the arrival of hot appetizers. That meant that the formal dinner wouldn’t be far off.

As she stirred uncomfortably, Carrick leaned in farther, as if to whisper something into her ear. Her whole body stirred as he got closer. But then he stopped and leaned back in against the wall—not saying anything.

“What?” Danica pressed.

Carrick just shook his head. He averted his gaze and stopped talking to her altogether. A distance grew between them once again. Danica hated how onlookers wouldn’t even know they had arrived together. Validating that thought, a beautiful mid-forties woman with long blonde hair found her way next to Carrick and immediately started chatting, asking Carrick about himself, which led Danica to overhear and learn more about the man in that short moment than she had in all the time she’d been with him.

“Yeah, I grew up in Long Beach, just up the bluffs,” Carrick answered the woman politely. “Nice place. You?”

Excited and effusive, the woman kept chatting about So-Cal families and surfing. Carrick got into the conversation with her on surfing, seeming to be more and more interested in talking to her. As the woman laughed, it was clear that she was flirting with him. But Danica couldn’t really hear everything that they were talking about.

And Carrick wasn’t inviting her to join.

Danica wished she could switch spots with the woman and be having that laughing, flirting, fun conversation with him. And it hurt even more that he seemed to have forgotten about the reason why he was there.

So she quietly stood back, hurting, seething—and drinking wine that went down like water, and she realized that Alexei had been right. Shewasthirsty. Unfortunately, the more wine she drank, the more alone she felt and the more distant she was from Carrick. That feeling only got worse as cocktail hour continued. Considering that the man was more or less beside her, she didn’t even know him. It seemed like she wasn’t even there with him.

Which, in truth, she wasn’t.

Finally, as guests were called to sit and the beautiful woman beside Carrick started proclaiming her need to dance later on, Danica couldn’t take it anymore—so she pushed back from the wall, ready to bolt. She didn’t look at Carrick, didn’t say a word.

But she didn’t get far.

Andriy swooped in out of nowhere and took her elbow. Looking down on her, he shot a wide, self-satisfied smile.

“Shall we?” he asked, putting his hand on her lower back.

Danica’s skin crawled as she realized what he meant. He was ushering them toward table six. They were to be seated together.

But what about Carrick?

Turning her head over her shoulder, she realized what was happening but had no idea where Carrick was moving to. The same usher in a dark suit who had helped her had found his way over to Carrick, and as they both walked away, it was clear that they were having a tense exchange—even more tense than her interaction with Alexei. That was the last time she saw Carrick, as Andriy turned her attention back to the table and the dinner that was being served.

Assessing the glasses he’d never seen her wear, Andriy leaned into her, whispering, “Let’s take those off.” He reached up, pulling the dark frames off her nose, and took her clutch to stuff them back in as they approached the table.

“My fiancée,” Andriy introduced her to the other guests, pulling out her chair for her, “Miss Petrova.”

As the other guests at their table stood, greeting her like a princess, Andriy handed her clutch off to a man in a suit behind them. Shocked but unable to refuse, Danica obediently took her seat and occupied the position of Andriy’s future wife. As he spoke, it was made clear that everyone believed her to be Petrov’s real daughter—because no one, in the past nine years, had ever spoken her father’s name again since the accident and not since Petrov had banished Ivan’s memory.

And now she was the lost princess of the Russian mob.

Looking around, affixing a pleasant smile to her mouth, she realized that she was at one of the tables of honor and surrounded by ultra-rich executives both within Petrov’s organization and key partners. Now she realized the reason why Petrov had wanted her to be there.

Andriy slipped his hand down her thigh, squeezing her knee with assurance. Something began creeping up her throat, and she was going to cry. It had all been a mistake, and she never should have come.

Now, their engagement was announced.

Now, it was official.

She flitted her gaze around and realized she was well and truly alone. Carrick had left—and it looked like he wasn’t coming back.

Chapter Twelve

Danica

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