Page 12 of Claimed By Shadows

“You scrub up pretty well yourself, Nik,” I answer, my lips tipping up into a smile at his chuff of laughter.

He leads me to the stairs, and as we get closer, I hear the noise of people chatting.

“There are some very important people here tonight,Dorogaia,” he murmurs as we walk. “People who my father has under control in one way or another. Politicians, business leaders, even the Police Commissioner.” I shiver at his words, at the impossible power that Sergi seems to have. How are we ever going to take him down with those kinds of people in his pocket? “Be on your guard. These are not good men.”

Before I can ask what he means, we’re at the top of the stairs, and I look down to see every eye in the room looking up at us. My heart thuds painfully inside my chest, like a bird trapped and flinging itself against a window in a desperate bid to fly free.

“Ah, Nikolai, there you are,” Sergi crows as we make our way down the stairs. “And you’ve bought my pretty houseguest, Iris Montgomery.”

I feel more than hear the murmurs, knowing from what Sergi said earlier that many of my father’s business associates and friends are here tonight. I glance around as we descend, seeing several familiar faces, my pulse racing each time I recognise someone. My brows dip when I see many of them with barely dressed women draped over them, many of whom look to be incredibly young and not quite with it. Nausea swirls in my stomach when I remember Nik telling me about his father’s flesh trade business, about the women forced to be part of it. Seeing these men, some who I’ve known since I was a child, with girls who are barely legal, has heat flashing throughout my body, my teeth grinding.

“Breathe,Solnishko,” Nik mutters, and I inhale his comforting scent, letting it ground me.

We reach the bottom of the stairs, Sergi’s hand landing on my lower back and burning like acid. Nik releases my arm but stays by my side as Sergi turns to a man facing away from us with salt-and-pepper hair, a girl who looks to be no more than sixteen hanging off his arm.

“Roger, I believe you know Iris?” Sergi says, not even attempting to hide his glee as Roger turns to face us, his eyes widening when he catches my gaze. It takes everything I have to remain upright, his presence like a gut punch. Roger was almost like an uncle to me, my father’s partner, and spent many hours at our house, bringing his wife and daughter, Susan, for Sunday lunch more times than I can count.

“I–Iris, good to see you again,” he stammers out, his cheeks flushing and a sheet of sweat breaking out across his forehead. His eyes dart to the girl at his side and then back to me, and I almost curl my lip at him, but Nik presses against my side, bringing me out of that foolishness.

“Roger, how’s Susan doing?” I ask, drawing on every fucking etiquette lesson I had at Windym’s and plastering a fake smile on my face.

“G–good, she’s engaged now, wedding set for Christmas,” he answers, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face.

“Please pass on my congratulations,” I reply, my cheeks aching with the smile that is stretching my lips. “And Angie? Is she doing well?”

He flinches at the mention of his wife, and Sergi’s fingers dig in painfully at my lower back.

“She’s well, thank you,” he says in a measured tone, then something evil flashes in his eyes. “I hear your father is enjoying Bali.”

I can’t breathe, the sounds of the room muffled as his words hit me like someone just ripped my heart out. I thought I’d gotten over the betrayal, that my father’s actions no longer hurtme, but clearly they do, and it’s going to take a while to get over the hurt of his abandonment.

Fingers stroke mine, and the brief touch is enough to bring me back to the present, to the man who I considered almost an uncle, who’s now looking at me like I’m less than nothing.

“Enjoy the party, Roger,” I tell him, my voice robotic and unlike any I’ve ever used before, but I need to switch myself off to protect myself, to put this new wound with all their others in the back of my mind. To be dealt with at a future point.

“Yes, enjoy the party, Roger,” Sergi agrees, using his hand on my back to guide me to another man, who he introduces as the current Police Commissioner.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” I say as he takes my hand and places a kiss on my knuckles. His moustache tickles and he leaves a damp spot on my skin that I want to wipe away, but he won’t let go.

“Is this one available?” he asks, his shit-brown eyes trailing over me like a slug, leaving a gross feeling across my skin.

“Afraid not, Bob.” Sergi chuckles, his hand wrapping around my waist and tugging me close to his side, forcing Bob to let go of my hand. My skin crawls with being so close to Sergi, and I swallow hard to try and stop the way my body wants to cringe away, even though right now it’s a case of better the devil you know.

Again, fingers brush mine, and I glance to the side to find Nik standing as close as he has all night, acting like a bodyguard but not so obvious as to make Sergi suspicious.

“Shame, but I suppose there are lots to choose from. You do throw the best parties in London, Petrov,” Bob replies, taking a glass of whiskey that a server brings him. “We do need to talk a little business, I’m afraid.”

Sergi smiles, giving my waist a squeeze before releasing me. “Of course, shall we head to my office? Nik, stay by her side.”

Sergi strides off, Bob—the Police fucking Commissioner—walking at his side.

“Let’s get you something to eat,Solnishko,” Nik utters, his hand at the base of my spine, giving me a light caress over the spot that Sergi no doubt bruised earlier.

He leads me through the party, nodding and greeting various men as we pass, then takes me to a table laden with food that I’d missed, waving away the staff that offers to fill our plates. Taking a plate, he places a sample from most of the dishes until the plate is full, and with his hand on my lower back, leads me to one of the small tables in an alcove away from the main throng.

“Thank you,” I whisper as he sits me down, sliding in next to me so he’s blocking me in, Dima and Andrei, who I’d not noticed until now, taking up stations on either side of the alcove. A server comes over with a glass of amber liquid for him and a tall glass of water for me, setting them on the marble tabletop before leaving.

“Eat,” he orders, and my lips twitch at the note of command in his tone.

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