Page 71 of Porcelain Lies

“You’re not staff.” It’s not a question. His accent wraps around the words like smoke.

“N-no.” My voice comes out embarrassingly weak. “I have a delivery for you.”

One dark eyebrow rises slightly. “Through the main ballroom?”

Heat floods my cheeks. “I got lost.”

His eyes narrow, head tilting slightly as he examines me. Is there a flicker of recognition? Does he remember anything about that night?

“It was weeks ago, Stella,”says Boyana.“He’s probably fucked fifty other women since then.”

The black bag feels like it’s burning against my chest. Inside is the money that could save Nick’s life — or end mine if Aleksei Tarasov decides he doesn’t like how this is laying out.

We stand in charged silence, the party continuing around us like we’re in our own bubble. Just like that night. Except now I know he’s the monster my brother is running from.

“Come with me.” He turns and starts walking, clearly expecting me to follow.

I force my shaking legs to move. What choice do I have?

I follow him down a dimly lit corridor, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Each step takes us further from the party’s noise, but my pulse refuses to quiet. I cling to the bag like it’s a life preserver. In a way, it is.

“In here.” He opens a door to what appears to be a study, gesturing for me to enter first.

The room smells of leather and cedarwood — just like that night. I dig my nails into my palms, forcing those memories away.

“Explain.” He moves behind a massive desk, leaving me standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“My brother, Nick — Nico Verona…” My voice catches as his expression hardens at the name. “He made a terrible mistake. The money he took — I have it here.” I lift the bag slightly. “All of it.”

Aleksei’s jaw tightens. “Your brother?”

“Yes. Please, he’s all I have left. Our parents just died, and he’s…” I swallow hard, fighting to keep my voice steady. “He wasn’t thinking clearly. The drugs, the gambling — I know it’s no excuse, but—”

“Stop.”

His command freezes the words in my throat. He stands, moving around the desk with predatory grace. My body remembers that walk, the way he stalked toward me that night before…

Focus, Stella!

“You’re telling me,” he says, stopping inches away, “that you’re Nico Verona’s sister?”

The heat radiating from his body makes it hard to think. “Yes. And I brought the money. Every cent he took. Please, just let him—”

“The charity event.” His eyes narrow. “That’s where I saw you before.”

Sawme? Is that what he’s calling it?

My heart thunders. Does he remember everything? Or just that brief encounter before…

“Yes,” I whisper. “I organized it.”

His proximity is overwhelming, memories of that night threatening to shatter my composure. But Nick’s life depends on me holding it together.

“The money.” He holds out his hand.

I place the black bag in his palm, trying to ignore how our fingers brush. The contact sends tingles shooting up my arm.

He moves to a small table, emptying the contents onto its surface. Stacks of bills scatter across the polished wood.

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