Page 52 of Mercenary Princess

Chapter 18

London, England

Viktor absently slid into his tuxedo jacket while looking out the window at the cloudless night. He spared a glance for the envelope on his desk while considering the night to come.

When had he developed the need to see Sophia outside these walls? The charity dinner she was attending was one to which he declined invitations every year. He was a very generous donor, but that didn’t mean he wished to suffer through an evening with men and women he didn’t like. For her, though, he would, since he’d be sleeping alone until tomorrow.

His princess had gotten under his skin and had even forced him to bend his rules. Everything about her seemed to call to something inside him. He enjoyed her spirit and the logical mind she hid from the world. Her innocent passion called to a tenderness he hadn’t known existed. And the vulnerability and loneliness she hid so well called to protective instincts that had long since been reserved for those who belonged to him.

His protectiveness seemed to be driving him now. He wasn’t sure what she’d gotten herself into, but nothing he’d seen had added up. He needed to see her in her realm.

*****

Gilded walls and priceless artwork adorned the two-story ballroom. The crystal chandeliers dipped low, sending flickering light up to the fresco painted on the ceiling more than two floors above.

Sophia tuned out the background music. She didn’t need to turn to know Jen was close, situated against the wall at Sophia’s back, while Antony and Marco watched the front and rear entrances.

The walls and discreet alcoves were filled with dark-suited security sporting earpieces. This was only the beginning. As the night drew on, several of the most sought-after musicians would take the stage as the wealthy dined and conducted business. Each year, this event took on a global cause. Tonight’s dinner raised money for programs that helped those who’d been rescued from human traffickers. Sophia would have preferred it if more of her donation had gone to the cause rather than to pay for the entertainment, but that wasn’t how things were done.

A glance confirmed the Duke of Hellshire was standing, in all his lecherous glory, on the opposite side of the room with one of her mother’s friends.

Sophia nodded absently, having been surrounded by people since the moment she’d arrived. Her current companions were in their seventies and required little assistance in carrying the conversation, for which she was thankful. Those were her favorite types of companions. Her gaze flickered to the champagne fountain while willing a white-gloved servant to pass by with a tray, as her glass was nearly empty. Plates of caviar and truffle bites circled the room, but not the champagne she wanted.

She took a sip from the glass in her hand.

Men and women in brightly colored tights rolled down flowing fabric fastened on the ceiling, and a trio of jugglers had set up in the perfect spot to block her mother’s closest friend, Lady Celia, from easily moving to her side. Sophia had had enough of the woman. She’d had enough of her mother as well, but she would play nice.

New arrivals were being announced at the top of the sweeping staircase to her right. Most everyone would have arrived already, as dinner should begin shortly.

It was taking all her energy to keep the tension from her face. Jean Luc was set to attend, yet she hadn’t seen him. They still had nothing on the bank or anything else, for that matter.

Lord and Lady Alexander Weatherford. The names were announced as Sophia found a champagne-bearing servant. She traded her nearly empty flute for a full one.

Fortifying herself, she smiled instead of gritting her teeth as Lady Archibald, one of her mother’s favorite frenemies, approached with Hellshire on her arm.

Better to get this over with, Sophia thought. Then her gaze flickered to a spot over Hellshire’s shoulder, and she instantly stilled. Jean Luc was speaking to a high-ranking British politician in the corner. She took a small sip of champagne, wishing it were something far stronger.

Just as she was about to greet Hellshire, Jean Luc turned in her direction. After a quick glance around, his cool gaze settled on her like a heavy weight. The contact lasted a split second before someone caught his attention, but she swore, even at a distance, the interest in his eyes had been unmistakable. Dread set in. She’d have to be very careful when he finally approached her. And he would. Of that, she had no doubt.

Hellshire was the one to save her from her thoughts. “Your Royal Highness.” She’d never admit to being glad to see him, but when the alternative was a monster, she would deal with a pig any day.

“Your Grace,” she said as the baby-faced duke kissed her cheeks. They spoke for only a moment before someone drew his attention away. Unfortunately, the duke’s new conversation partner allowed Lady Archibald to station herself at Sophia’s side, sharing her thoughts on the available men.

Mr. Viktor Petrovich Popov.

That booming announcement almost buckled her knees. Instead, she clenched her fingers around the delicate stem of the champagne flute as she fought to maintain her composure. Her eyes darted to the staircase, and all the moisture left her mouth.

He was absolutely gorgeous, wearing a tuxedo that had obviously cost a fortune. At his side was a man she recognized as having been a Fortune 500 member for years. He and Viktor seemed comfortable as they spoke.

Hellshire’s friend stepped away, and the duke turned his attention to the staircase. She heard the man mutter, “Popov is here? That’s surprising.”

The duke didn’t seem put off by Viktor’s presence, merely curious. Viktor’s family history was a bloody one. She knew more details than were readily available because of James, but most would know his father and uncle had waged a bloody criminal war against one another over business a decade ago. His family business had been human trafficking among other dark dealings. It had taken young Viktor years to clean up the mess.

Some of the darker rumors said he’d killed his uncle and half the men on either side. She wasn’t sure, but she did know one thing—his uncle and father had been cruel and wealthy, with old, very corrupt bloodlines and ties to the Bratva.

Several of Viktor’s cousins, who’d taken over the darker business that Viktor severed ties to, had ended up in prisons for crimes in Russia. She had no doubt Viktor had blood on his hands. But didn’t she as well? He’d protected Feliks and refused to deal in trafficking, even when his family held the ties and fortunes were made. In the world she lived in, there were a lot of gray areas. In her eyes, he’d always been a good guy, though she’d be insane not to be wary over his penchant for collecting the secrets of the rich and powerful.

“Why would he be here?” There was no mistaking Lady Archibald’s acid tone.

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