Chapter 7 - Entering the Lion's Den
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Liya barely recognized herself in the mirror.
The stylists had dressed her in a floor-length, deep crimson silk gown that hugged her curves and plunged daringly at the neckline. Her hair was swept up into an elegant, complicated knot, and diamonds dripped from her ears. She didn't look like a struggling college dropout anymore. She looked exactly like the billionaire mafia wife she was pretending to be.
When she stepped out of the bedroom, Adrian was waiting by the elevator. He wore a bespoke black tuxedo, looking impossibly handsome and terrifyingly dangerous. His eyes widened slightly as he took her in, a flash of genuine hunger crossing his face before he masked it.
"You look breathtaking," he murmured, offering his arm.
"I feel like a target," Liya admitted, taking his arm.
"Then I will be your armor," Adrian promised.
They arrived at the Pierre Hotel in a convoy of armored SUVs. The flashbulbs of the paparazzi blinded Liya as they walked up the red carpet. Adrian kept her tucked securely against his side, his hand resting possessively on her lower back.
The moment they entered the grand ballroom, the music seemed to halt. Hundreds of eyes turned toward them. The dangerous elite of the criminal underworld parted like the Red Sea as Adrian led her into the room.
Standing near the center of the ballroom were five stunningly beautiful women. The heiresses.
Elena Romanov, a tall, icy blonde in a silver dress, glared at Liya with pure, unadulterated venom. Isabella Falcone, a fiery brunette, gripped her champagne glass so hard her knuckles were white.
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"Smile, my love," Adrian whispered in Liya's ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine. "Let them see how untouchable you are."
Elena Romanov detached herself from the group and stalked directly toward them, her eyes fixed on the massive diamond on Liya's finger.
