Page 8 of Ruling Scar
Adeline barely acknowledges Yelena. Nat only allows a cool nod of the head in greeting.
Get fucked, Yelena.
She’s sucking up to a lady dripping in diamonds, her eyes narrowing as we pass by. Her husband is just inside the doorway and our happiness is genuine when we see him.
“Girls, lovely as always.” Lev hugs each of us.
He might be Dad’s friend, but I can admit he’s handsome. It’s the way his smile brightens his face and the cut of his shouldersin his tailored suit jacket. He’s always treated us like we're extended family; like Dad is his brother.
“Do my eyes deceive me?” Nat mock gasps. “Or is thattheRoma Zimin?”
Adeline pokes his cheek while Nat teases his collar.
“All right.” Roma takes her hands, trying to shoo her away. He nods toward someone else and they swap gossip back and forth.
“Max isn’t here yet,” Lev mentions to me while my sisters continue to make fun of Roma. I smile politely but say nothing.
Mainly because I can’t.
I feel his eyes on me.
From the car, I spotted Elijah near the front door. But upon our appearance, he disappeared. Most guests, with the party going, wouldn’t think anything of it.
But I know Lev shooed his son off before we entered the front foyer.
“Is that a chocolate fountain?” Adeline cries out.
“Yes, please go somewhere else.” Roma dramatically rolls his eyes.
Adeline runs her hands through his hair in retaliation.
He ducks and I’m certain Lev is happy when my dad walks through the door. They greet each other like always, with a manly clap on the shoulder and launching right into a conversation in Russian.
With the parents nearby, we take it as our cue to scatter. I follow Adeline toward the chocolate fountain, her eyes nearly as big as her head.
“This is amazing,” she awes.
“Because sugar’s what you need.” Nat sighs, slipping her phone out to start texting.
Both my sisters text a lot. They always have something going on.
I have a reading app on my phone and that’s mainly why I’m on it. Mom would give me hell, though, if she caught me trying to read while the party’s in full swing.
There’s a low level of constant chatter and servers pass around food. We each take a flute of champagne, but I’m already wondering when we can go home.
Especially when there’s a prick on the back of my neck.
He’s here.
The one thing I always know is when Elijah Zimin enters a room.
It’s a gift I’ve had since childhood.
I’m closest in age to the twins, Max and Roma, but as a little kid, I got along better with Elijah. Max normally went off reading, and Nat and Adeline claimed Roma as their pet.
Elijah turned on the TV for us when we came over, changing the channel to whatever show I wanted, while simultaneously explaining why television was bad for us. He took me to the kitchen to steal cookies and boxed Roma’s ears if he and Nat made fun of me.
He’s five years older than me and when the age gap between little kid and teenager grew he remained kind to me.
