𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

34 || Lovers Quarrel

"I'll do it if you let me be your escort." Seb had said through the line.

The man standing before me's eyes had flashed and he'd stepped forward, reaching for the phone, his tone so cold it could freeze over the gates of hell. "Nyet."

I eye him like he's insane. Did he really think I'd let him be my escort while he sponsored another woman?

Yeah, fuck that.

I took two large steps back, out of his reach, yet kept my eyes on his. "Da." Surprise, challenge, and something else more pensive than rage had seemed to brush past his hardened stare. So pensive I briefly thought i'd hurt his feelings. (Russian| yes.)

"What does that mean?" Seb had muttered, reminding me that he was still in my ear.

"I said yes. You can be my escort." And with that, I'd hung up the phone, took two steps forward and smoothed a hand over Adrik's tie.

My movements slow, nonchalant, despite the rage burning within. "I'll win the star debutant and Seb will be right by my side when I do so." I slipped his phone back into his pocket, relishing in the way his body remained rigid.

A slight tremble had racked through him as though he couldn't bear to conceal his rage. "Perhaps my dear sister will need an escort. I can already see it, you stand together as losers watching Seb and I."

I'd walked away before he could respond.

"Earth to Lina? You still there?" I blink back into the present, and look over at my friend who's looking at me through large brown doe eyes. They're soft, and welcoming. "Is everything okay between you and your...man?"

I internally roll my eyes knowing what that look means. She wants a heart to heart.

"It's fine..." Disappointment flickers through her gaze and with another swing of my drink, I humor her. "He's just..." a manipulative psychopath, an uptight cruel piece of dog shit, the devil himself. I settle on something that won't give my soft hearted friend a heart attack. "Mean."

"Is he sorry about it?"

I stare out into the crowd, bring my glass to my lips and drink in the people around me. My eyes catch onto a familiar Italian, rage instantly sparking in my chest. "He will be."

She doesn't see me, not as she maneuvers through the crowd, soft smiles and timid waves to those around her while the rest of her family lingers behind. Her brother however glares daggers at me, I ignore him and drag a scrutinizing gaze down to her off white dress.

At this point her antics are so pre-school they bore me.

"Is that why you're not wearing your ring?" I look to Hana, who's looking at the hand around my glass, bare of any jewelry.

I follow her gaze, a look of mild surprise on my face. "I must have forgotten it at home." My tone doesn't sound all that surprised, but I'm tired of this conversation. "Talk to me about something else before I throw myself overboard."

"Fine." Mischief glints in her eyes, "I can't believe you told us all your dad was dead when he was anything but." She glances out into the crowd, her cheeks red and telling me that she's had one too many drinks. "He's kinda hot."