8
CORA
His name is ringing in my ears. He is Ivan. Ivan is him. I’m in a room alone with the man everyone else wants to be alone in a room with.
Holyfuckingshit.
“Wow. Uh, okay. Well, it was great to meet you as well, but like I said, I really should go. This isn’t my scene.”
“No? Then tell me what scene you prefer.”
“I know you can’t imagine a world beyond these palace walls,” I say, sarcasm oozing out of every word. “But some of us don’t live in a fairy tale. Some of us live in the real world. With bills and 9-to-5 jobs and…and…and we have to wash our own dishes.”
“So washing dishes is your scene?”
“Maybe!” I cross my arms and take a step away from him. “Not all of it, obviously. I have… I have other stuff, too.”
“Do tell.”
He draws closer to me. The rest of the world blots out instantly. It’s like a cone of silence has descended over us. It’s me and Ivan. Ivan and me.
Nothing else exists.
“I have…friends.”
He nods, waving me on.
“Jorden and F—” I stop myself, remembering my lies. “Jorden. I work with her.”
“One friend. Quite the scene.”
Now, I know I’m not imagining it—that’s definitely judgment.
“I’m sure you and your oh-so-close group of hundreds of vague acquaintances here can’t relate. It’s so normal to have a party where everyone in attendance is only there because they want to marry into your family fortune. Is that what I should strive for?”
He shrugs. “Strive for whatever you want. You said you weren’t here to marry me, but if you’ve changed your mind, you’re welcome to join the queue.”
“That’s not what I—oh, for God’s sake, I’m not talking about wanting to marry you! That’s not why I’m here.”
“Then tell me: why are you here?”
I can’t help but feel like he already knows what I’m going to say before I even say it. Maybe that’s why I try to throw him off with something unexpected.
“To get the scoop on you and sell it to the gossip mag with the highest bid.”
I deliver the line with as much confidence as I can muster in my suit jacket ensemble. He immediately laughs right in my face.
“No, you’re not.”
I bristle. “It wouldn’t be that hard if I was. Everyone here is whispering about you.”
He leans in close. I catch a hint of sandalwood. Rich people soap, I think. My mom kept sandalwood hand soap in her and my stepfather’s master bathroom. Weirdly, the smell doesn’t bring back bad memories now. I just want to lean in closer.
“Everyone is always whispering about me,” he says softly. “It comes with the territory.”
“The territory of being as rich as God?”
“That,” he agrees. “And also the territory of looking like one.”
“Oh, gross. Were you this cocky a minute ago? I don’t remember feeling this constant urge to roll my eyes.”
He smiles, not bothered in the least. “You came here with your friend.”
“Is that a question?”
“No. I’m just trying to understand if this is a dual investigative operation you’re performing.” He flicks a finger in my direction. “And if your dress mishap was some kind of distraction. If so, it was…thorough. I was quite distracted.”
My body flushes. I’d give anything to be in sweatpants on my couch right now. Far from this world and this man and his intoxicating attention.
“Did you check with the security at the gate to see who I came with? Or were you watching me on camera?” I look around the hallway ceiling. “How many cameras are in this house?”
His face remains perfectly neutral. “I like to learn more about who I’ve invited into my house. I’m sure you can understand.”
I’m sure I absolutely cannot. If someone is in my house, I already know who they are. Mostly because my apartment is only five hundred square feet, not five hundred rooms.
I could tell him I’m not Francia Delacour and I only used her name to get inside, but then he’d ask my real name, and that would open up a can of worms I’d really prefer to stay closed.
I’m still fumbling for what to do and say when he suddenly places a hand on my hip and pulls me into him.
“You seem on the fence about whether you’re interested in me,” he muses.
“Then let me clarify for you: I’m not.”
He presses a palm to his chest. “A weaker man would be hurt by that.”
“It’s a good thing you’re not weak, then.”
“A very good thing.” He looks at me. “You’re not weak, either. When Stefanos grabbed you, you didn’t hesitate to put him in his place.”
“He put his hands on me, so I put my hands on him.”
Ivan’s dark brow arches. “Is that all it takes?”
I gulp. There’s no missing the dark flirtation. “You’re the star of the show here. I’m sure you have ways of getting what you want out of people.”
“I’m not sure a woman like you will fall for my usual tricks.”
Oh, how wrong he is. I think I’m falling for them right now.
I bite the corner of my lip to hide a smile. “It really bothers you that I’m not interested, doesn’t it? I’m sure you aren’t denied things you want very often. This must be a new experience for you.”
“Nothing has been denied yet,” he says, his voice a low rumble.
He’s right. With every word spoken, I feel like I’m walking towards the edge of a cliff. The wind is whipping through the open doors and my stomach is cratering.
Ivan takes another step towards me. We’re only a few inches apart. “How did you get an invite to this party?”
I open my mouth and close it, fumbling with the clumsy truth. “I, uh…”
“This isn’t your scene,” Ivan cuts in slowly. “You didn’t recognize me earlier. Now that you do, you still have no interest in marrying me. I’m a smart man, but I can’t figure out what you’re doing here, Francia.”
“I’m here for…for…for fun.”
“How convenient.” His eyes gleam. “I have an idea in that regard.”
Then he pulls me in the final distance and presses his lips to mine.