Volkov

Chapter 9

The atmosphere of the gala was as grand as I had imagined it would be, the room illuminated by glittering chandeliers and buzzing with conversation in both English and Russian. Every corner of the space was adorned with opulence—gold accents, shimmering silverware, and the unmistakable hum of wealth and power. I took it all in, trying not to feel overwhelmed, though the weight of so many eyes following me was impossible to ignore.

I wasn't used to this kind of attention, but tonight, I savored it.

My black evening dress clung to my frame, its elegance in the simplicity of the backless design and the two delicate strings that tied behind my shoulders. My hair, silk-pressed into a sleek bob, swung gently with each step I took. Heads turned as I walked in, and for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel the urge to shy away.

The stares weren't threatening—they were admiring. And I let myself enjoy them, if only for tonight.

The moment I stepped further into the room, Elijah's tall, familiar frame emerged from the crowd. His easy grin and warm demeanor made the sharp edges of the gala's formality feel less daunting.

"Raven," he greeted, looking me up and down with an exaggerated expression of approval. "You've just made every man in this room jealous."

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics, though a small smile tugged at my lips. "You're ridiculous."

"I mean it," he said, offering his arm, which I took without hesitation. "If Maksim doesn't watch himself tonight, I might just propose to you myself. Seriously, you look stunning."

"You're incorrigible," I laughed, feeling a warmth of familiarity.

Elijah leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But don't tell him I said that. You know how he gets."

I laughed again, though my eyes instinctively scanned the room. I knew Maksim was here—his presence felt like a weight in the air, even if I couldn't yet spot him in the crowd.

I didn't have to wait long.

It was subtle at first—a sensation, a prickling awareness that made the back of my neck heat. I could feel his gaze, heavy and intent, somewhere in the room. But no matter how much I searched, I couldn't pinpoint where he was. It was maddening and thrilling all at once.

"Maksim's been keeping tabs on you since the second you walked in," Elijah teased, noting my wandering eyes.

"Sure he has," I said, playing it off. But the thought sent a shiver of anticipation through me.

As the night unfolded, I found myself seated at one of the most coveted tables in the room. Maksim had ensured our table was front and center, directly facing the stage where the auction would take place. The table was a blend of Russian and American business moguls, their poised wives seated beside them. Elijah was among them, seated on my left, while Maksim's empty chair was to my right.

The conversations around the table flowed seamlessly between Russian and English, the businessmen discussing investments, market trends, and upcoming ventures. Their wives, elegant and perfectly polished, shared stories of their travels and charities. I contributed where I could, finding moments to laugh with Elijah, who ensured I didn't feel out of place.

It wasn't long before Maksim finally appeared.

He moved through the crowd like he owned the room, his tall, commanding figure towering over everyone else. At 6'6", he was impossible to miss, yet his presence was so magnetic that it wasn't just his height that drew attention. It was the quiet authority in his stride, the confidence in his posture, and the sharp intensity of his gaze.