Page 116 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

I motion around us, pointing at some other guests. “We’re not exactly hiding. Look. People.”

“You can take the girl off the mountain, but you can’t take the mountain out of the girl,” Chance chuckles, coming closer to kiss my cheek.

“Technically speaking, I’m as New York as they come,” I say.

“True, but you took to Seeley Lake faster than anyone I’ve ever seen,” Chance replies.

Zoya finds us, taking slow sips of champagne in Evgeny’s tempered company. “Anya never liked the big crowds, not even when she was little, and her mother was throwing those extravagant weekend parties. I can’t blame her. I was never a fan either.”

“Grandma,” I part from Chance so I can give her a hug. “Hello, Evgeny.”

“Good to see you again,” Evgeny tells me. “And congratulations on this event. It’s an immense success!”

“Thank you,” I reply, smiling at him.

The Asimov gene is strong in Evgeny. I recognize parts of us in his face. He has the same cheekbones as Aleks, the same nose as my father. But he has my and Zoya’s eyes. It’s amazing what bloodlines can paint across entire generations.

“And thank you for coming,” I add. “It’s an honor to have you both here.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it, darling,” Zoya replies. “I’m so proud of you. And I know your father, your mother, and your brother would say the same thing.”

“I hear you’ve sold some pieces already,” Evgeny cuts in. He already knows how painful the subject of my family is, and he is considerate enough to steer the conversation into a much brighter direction. That’s another thing about him I have come to like. Yes, Zoya did right to pick him for our seat at the Bratva council table.

“There are some pretty heavy players present tonight. I recognize some of them from business summits across the East Coast.”

“I’m honestly surprised,” I say. “I mean, I knew it was going to be a big event. The Institute’s board of trustees take care of their own, but I didn’t expect this turnout.”

Nico smiles softly. “The prospect of donating to charity does carry an appeal of its own, especially since some of these people are aware of your history.”

“Right, because tragedy is a bestseller.” I can’t help but sigh.

Zoya, however, doesn’t seem to mind. “Whatever works to help others, in my humble opinion. But I should add, we didn’t come alone.”

“You brought guests, I presume.”

“Buyers,” she says.

“Oh?” I glance past her and Evgeny, quickly analyzing the swelling crowd on the east side of the gallery. I’ve got a good view from here, and I recognize a few familiar faces. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Nico follows my gaze, while Chance and Booker take turns keeping our son busy before they go visit the dinner buffet.

“Is that…” Nico’s voice fades. “Lev Fedorov?”

“And Ivan. And Tatyana,” I gasp. “You brought the Bratva council to my art show? Seriously?”

“No, I brought guests who have expressed interest in buying your artwork,” Zoya says with a devilish smirk. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. I’m just surprised.”

“And a little impressed; admit it.” Evgeny chuckles lightly.

“Okay, you got me. Yes, I’m impressed. I never pegged the Bratva for being partial to up-and-coming artists.”

“They’re not, but they have money to burn, and your entire exhibit has been described as ‘an ode to the euphoric dance between opulence and abject poverty,’” Evgeny says. “The Institute’s marketing department is really good, I’ll give them that. They know how to draw out the city’s big spenders.”

Zoya shrugs and sips champagne. “Besides, Ivan and the crew know I would never forgive them if they didn’t show up to support you and represent the family.”

“Represent?” Chance replies, his brow furrowed.

---