Page 54 of Dark Truths

“Who is this?”

“Volkov, it’s Michael DiAngelo.”

Fuck.

He’s never once called me, and my immediate thought goes directly to Gabriella. Does he know? Did something happen to her? Is she okay?

Swallowing down my worry and desire to ask about his sister is a bitter pill. “What is it?”

“I need you to come and get your idiot friend Alexei fromSinnersbefore I kill him.”

Dominic meets me at the front doors with a deep frown and ticking jaw before gesturing to follow him. I hear my friend before seeing him and when I do finally put eyes on him, I can’t hardly blame Michael for wanting to kill him.

Alexei dances on top of a table, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his tattooed chest to the world. Standing before him, Sophia sensually grinds her partially clothed body against Alexei’s crotch, as if she were giving him a standing lap dance. They pass a bottle of champagne between each other, but they’re so disoriented and buzzed, most of the liquid falls to the table at their feet.

They’re not doing anything more or less than half of the other guests, but they’re not just drunk, they’re also shouting and being obnoxious.

Behind them stands Michael DiAngelo, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression dark and near murderous. His molten eyes shift from the pair to me when Dominic rejoins him and leans in to say something. He’s a frightening enough man, large and imposing, with an air of danger around him. Even recovering from gunshot wounds to his leg and chest, he’s still a force to deal with. Although I remember Gabriella mentioning something about a cane. I wonder where that is.

Alexei spots me and spins around to a sudden stop. “Dimi!”

The motherfucker really is drunk.

Growling under my breath, I approach and order, “Get down, you idiot.”

Alexei bends at his knees, coming level with my face. When he wobbles for a moment, trying hard to regain his balance, he giggles like a kid. I’ve never seen him this fucking trashed before.

“What are you doing?”

“Join us, Dimitri!” Alexei coaxes, his words a little slurred and tone uneven. “Sophia has these little pills.” He looks at the blonde woman who is still dancing, either too drunk to noticemy arrival or she just doesn’t care. “What are they called again,lapushka?”

“Sunshine daisies,” Sophia answers before she finally sees me. With a happy squeal, she jumps or more like falls toward me. It’s only by instinct that I catch her, limbs flailing like one of those tube men. I’m forced to keep hold of her shoulders while she tries to steady her balance.

“Dimitri,” she purrs, as she tries to run her hands up my chest. I grip her wrists and apply a little pressure as a warning before shoving them down. “Please come—hiccup—join us. I’m drowning my sorrows and could use the company.”

I frown at her. “It’s been weeks since your uncle’s funeral.”

Sophia pouts. “That’s not what I’m sad about.”

“Then what?”

“Michael’s moved on.”

My eyes lift over her head to lock with said man’s gaze. I’m not sure if he heard her or not, but her sorrow is a load of horseshit.

“As he should. You two are divorced and have been for a year now. Remember?”

Sophia crosses her arms, shoving her chest higher and nearly toppling out of her dress. “I didn’t want to. It was Daddy’s idea.”

“Because he couldn’t give you children.” Something that still confuses me and something Sergei swears he knew nothing about, either. It seems like Sergei is in the dark about a lot of things lately. A little detail that has left me curious and on edge.

Sophia rolls her eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

She gestures to the air in a wild manner. “It’sher. That O’Leary slut.” Or maybe not because this appears to be just pure drama. “She came home and just stole him from me.”

The way Michael tenses and takes a menacing step forward before Dominic reaches out to stop him, tells me he can, in fact, hear every word.

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