Page 223 of Bratva Jewels Box Set
We stand at the entrance and before us is a grand ballroom with hundreds of people mingling and dancing. There are tables set up for dinner, floral centerpieces dominating each.
Maxim takes my hand, and we walk down the staircase.
I already feel the eyes of the ball on me. I forget how powerful Maxim is in this world.
I hear Damon’s voice in my ear. “Grace, you’re doing good.”
I’ve forgotten they’re listening in on everything. Luckily, there was no dirty talk between Maxim and me in the limousine.
“Thanks,” I say, walking down the stairs, hoping I don’t fall down them.
“Everything is working perfectly. We’re scanning people’s faces as you go and getting hits left, right, and center.”
“I need a drink,” Maxim says, so we head toward the bar.
I can see people eyeing Maxim as he walks; the men instantly part and let him pass, and the women, well, they are eye fucking him. Then they notice me, and the daggers come out. Everyone is talking Russian, and I realize I don’t understand a thing.
We stop at the bar and Maxim orders.
“Grace,” Damon whispers in my ear, which makes me jump, but thankfully no one is looking at me, they’re too busy chatting with Maxim. “I forgot to turn on the translator in your ear. When you’re within two meters of someone it will translate for you. You’ll be able to hear it in one ear, and me in the other. Is it working?”
I take a couple of deep breaths and try to listen in on what the men are saying.
“How are things going with Dmitri?” the larger guy asks Maxim.
“I believe he’s making some progress with finding the jewels,” Maxim answers the man seriously.
“Do you think he’ll find them?”
Maxim shakes his head.
“Fucking little shit. The six-month deadline still stands—if my nephew hasn’t found them by then you have my permission to kill him.”
I try not to flinch at that statement. Dmitri’s own uncle wants him dead.
Then I notice the man’s eyes on me.
“Who’s the girl?”he asks.
“That is my ... pet.” Maxim lets the words hang between us as he rubs my cheek with his thumb.
“Is this a pet you share?” the older man asks.
I hate the way he looks at me.
“You know I don’t play well with others,” Maxim jokes, slapping him on the shoulder in a friendly way.
“True. That’s why you’re the best.” The man smiles at him. “Well, if you change your mind or get sick of her, you know where I am.” The man smiles at me and walks away.
Maxim picks up his glass of whiskey from the bar, throws it back, and then asks for another.
“Maxim.” I tug on his tuxedo jacket.
He ignores me, knocking back the second shot of whiskey. He seems agitated.
“Maxim,” I try again, and he finally looks at me. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
He brings his lips to mine and kisses me. He tastes like whiskey as his tongue twirls with mine. Then he moves away but pulls me close, his lips against my ear.
