Chapter 3 - THE GALA OF WOLVESThe grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel looked like a cathedral of liquid gold under the glare of three thousand crystal chandeliers. Flashbulbs popped like miniature lightning storms as reporters and socialites strained for a glimpse of New York’s most elusive and feared billionaire making his formal re-entry into high society.
And leading him into the lion's den was Victoria Chen.
She wore the emerald-green silk gown Alexei had provided—form-fitting, slit dangerously high up the left thigh, dripping with enough custom-cut diamonds to buy a small island. Her black hair was swept up into an intricate chignon, exposing the long, elegant curve of her neck.
To the world, she was the epitome of a Cinderella who had caught the ultimate billionaire prince.
To Victoria, she was walking a tightrope suspended over a pit of starving tigers.
"Smile, cara," Alexei murmured, his hand resting securely at the small of her back. His touch was warm through the silk, burning her skin, an iron anchor disguised as a caress. "Half the men in this room are wondering how long you'll last. Show them you're already immortal."
"Keep your hand above my waist, Volkov, or I'll shatter a champagne flute against your jaw," she whispered back through a frozen, radiant smile meant for the cameras.
Alexei let out a low, rumbling chuckle that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. "Spicy. I love it."
They moved through the crowd like royalty. Politicians bowed their heads; rival syndicate bosses tipped their glasses with wary, calculating smiles. Everyone knew who Alexei was, and now, they were memorizing the face of the woman who held his arm.
Then, the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
A tall, impeccably dressed man with slicked-back blonde hair and predatory eyes intercepted them near the champagne fountain.
"Alexei," the man drawled, his voice dripping with false warmth. "I heard rumors, but seeing it with my own eyes... You’ve truly tamed a stray cat from Quinn’s Diner."
Victoria froze. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Quinn's Diner? How did this stranger know where she worked?
Alexei’s body went rigid beside her. The casual warmth vanished from his stance, replaced instantly by the lethal posture of a predator ready to strike. The hand on her back tightened until it nearly bruised.
"Dmitri," Alexei said, his voice dropping into a lethal, glacial register. "I thought I made it clear that your presence in Manhattan was a violation of our border agreement."
Dmitri smiled, his eyes lingering on Victoria with an insolent, predatory hunger. "Oh, I just came to congratulate the bride. It's not every day a Bratva boss marries a penniless waitress with such a... colorful family background. Did Carol tell you about her other creditors, Alexei? Or did she leave out the part where she owes my syndicate twice what you paid off?"
Victoria’s blood ran cold. Twice what Alexei paid off?
Before Victoria could speak, Alexei moved with terrifying, blinding speed. In a single fluid motion, he drew a silenced pistol from inside his jacket and pressed the cold steel barrel directly under Dmitri’s chin, lifting the man onto his tiptoes.
The surrounding socialites gasped, scattering like frightened birds. Cameras clicked frantically from the shadows, capturing the exact moment a high-society gala turned into a mafia execution ground.
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"Another word about my wife's family," Alexei whispered, his voice deadly quiet, "and I will scatter your ashes across the Atlantic before midnight."
Dmitri swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead, but a twisted smile remained on his lips. "She's a ticking time bomb, Alexei... and she doesn't even know what's hidden in her father's safe."
