The sprawling city of Moscow spread beneath us like a maze of lights and shadows, cold and strangely unfamiliar.
Judas, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. His legs were crossed, his posture relaxed, one hand gripping the sleek black cane he now carried as part of his act. His other hand rested on his thigh, fingers idly tapping as he seemed deep in thought. He wore his confidence like a second skin, and it was both infuriating and captivating.
Sensing my gaze on him, he smirked. And I flushed.
"Relax, ptichka," he said without turning to look at me. "You'll draw attention if you keep looking like you've been kidnapped."
"Maybe I feel like I have," I muttered, regretting it the moment his head tilted slightly in my direction.
The faintest smirk played on his lips, hidden behind the shadow of his shades. "You'll be fine," he said, ignoring my jab. "Just smile when necessary and don't say anything stupid."
The helicopter landed smoothly on a private pad, and Judas extended a hand to help me out, his touch firm and commanding. A car was waiting to take us to the venue-a sleek black limousine and I wonder how many cars this man owned.
As we approached the venue, my breath hitched. It wasn't just a party. The sprawling mansion before us was illuminated with golden lights, a red carpet unfurled across the entrance. The crowd outside was larger than I'd anticipated-men and women dressed in the finest attire, cameras flashing relentlessly, reporters shouting questions in both Russian and English.
The car came to a halt, and I suddenly felt like the walls were closing in. My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my dress as the driver opened Judas's door. He stepped out first fixing the dark coat and his tie.
I took a deep breath suddenly feeling like I had swallowed a bitter pill. He said it would be a party. Not this regal ball or whatever this was. I was no ready and I would never be. People like me, were meant to stay at home not attend these events. As if I'd ever get a chance to.
Just as I stepped out, I was instantly ambushed with the clicks of the cameras. If it wasn't for Judas's arm that possessively found my waist, I would've landed on my face and embarrassed myself.
"Smile, ptichka." And I did. Though it was shaky, out of place and awkward. But I did.
"Mr Romanovski, what brings you here tonight?"
"Is it true you've been funding the new campaign for-"
"Who's the woman with you?"
"Is she your girlfriend? Your fiancée?"
"There are rumours you're faking your illness-"
The barrage of questions came from all directions as flashes from the cameras nearly blinded me. Judas straightened, adjusting his shades as he gripped his cane with one hand. He moved with the measured precision of someone who knew exactly how much power he held. And he did. No matter how vulnerable he appeared in front of his parents, he was anything but that in front of the world.
A hush rippled through the crowd as several guards surrounded us and pushed the paparazzi back.
"But who is she?" one female reporter pressed, switching to English for emphasis.
I flinched as Judas's lips curled into a faint smile as he reached back, his hand finding mine. The warmth of his fingers sent a jolt through me as he guided me forward and I swallowed hard.
"Date."
The cameras clicked furiously as murmurs spread through the crowd.
"And her name?" another voice called out.
"Her name," Judas narrowed his brows and I knew he was glaring at the person. "is none of your concern."
The reporters laughed nervously, unsure whether to push further. Judas's grip on my hand tightened slightly as he leaned closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Keep your head high, ptichka. If they sense weakness, they'll devour you."
I swallowed hard and forced myself to stand taller as we ascended the steps toward the grand entrance. Men in tailored suits and women in glittering gowns filled the room as their gazes sharp assessed as soon as we entered. There was a pin drop silence for a moment. Eyes moving and then hushed whispers.
I stayed close to Judas as my heart raced as I tried to make sense of the crowd. Politicians, business magnates, and even a few celebrities mingled as far as I could recall from the magazines and the advertisement boards. This wasn't just a party; it was a nexus of power mirroring a stage for deals and alliances that would shape more than just one night.
Judas leaned down slightly and I flinched as his breath ghosted over my ear. "You look terrified, little bird."
I shook my head. "You didn't tell me this would be so… grand."
He chuckled. "Not for long."
Confused I looked at him. "What do you mean?"
He licked his lips and my eyes landed on his dimples. "Enjoy the show, little bird. By the end of the night, none of them will matter."
I would've pressed further. What did he mean by that? What curtains? What was he planning?
The night was just beginning, and I had no idea what was waiting for me in the darkness of this glittering facade.
Instead, I looked around. If he had something in mind, he wouldn't do something in front of the public, right? There were politicians for god's sake. One wrong move and world would know. Judas was anything but insane when it came to place his pieces. He was far more calculating and that what made him dangerous. He knew what he had and how to implement that power.
So, him doing anything reckless would be stupid of him. Maybe I was overthinking.
I should stop taking everything so seriously.
A hauntingly beautiful melody played by a live orchestra stationed on an elevated platform taking my attention away.
The scent of expensive perfume and fresh roses mixed in the air with the faint aroma of liquor. Waiters in crisp white uniforms moved gracefully through the crowd, and even they looked no less than celebrities.
My eyes widened as I took it all in. There were dancers moving in perfect synchronisation. How expensive this ball was?
"Impressive, isn't it?" His voice pulled me back to reality.
I turned to look at him, only to find his gaze fixed on me, not the room. He wasn't watching the dancers or admiring the decor-he was watching me. The corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing smile.
"It's…" I struggled to find the right word. "beautiful."
He chuckled softly. "This is Russia, ptichka. The parties are as cold and grand as the winters. The stronger your presence, the more respect you command."
I glanced around nervously. Of course he'd say that. He was only man people seemed to bow at. No matter women or men. He was the power.
A waiter approached with a tray of champagne, and Judas plucked a glass effortlessly, handing it to me. "Drink."
I took the glass, the coolness of it contrasting to the heat building in my chest. I sipped, but it did little to calm my nerves.
As if sensing my discomfort, Judas twisted me gently in his arms. "If you act like you don't belong, they'll believe it."
I nodded.
He didn't pull away; instead, he rested both his hands on my sides and pulled me closer to his chest. And even with heels, I barley reached his shoulders. And he seemed to like that. "Do you like firecrackers?"
I frowned. "Umm… I do… we have a… festival in Texas…" I stopped. Why was I even telling him about the festival he knew nothing about? Why was I even sharing my life's fragment with him?
His fingers danced along my side and rested under my bust. "Festival?"
I trembled as his hand moved all over my body and the heat of his hands troubled me. "Y-yes. Why are you even interested?"
Judas' fingers curled under the curve of my bust, unapologetically staking his claim. My breath hitched, and I instinctively placed a hand on his chest, as though it could create distance. It didn't. His other arm wrapped firmly around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer.
His dark gaze bored into mine through the shades flickering like embers ready to ignite. "Why not?" his lips brushed the shell of my ear. "I'm interested in everything concerning you."
"I-" The words caught in my throat as his thumb swept deliberately over the delicate fabric of my dress, grazing my sensitive skin and leaving chills in their wake.
He whispered. "Let's go and see firecrackers after this."
I froze. What was wrong with him today? Why was he being so… strange?
Words barely made it through my mouth before a group of men approached us and Judas muttered something under his breath. I fixed my dress and gulped the entire flute of champagne in one go. He was messing with head. I knew. Damn him.
Judas's arm found my waist instinctively as their eyes swept over us, some curious, others devious.
"Romanovski," one of them greeted with a smirk. He spoke in Russian before switching seamlessly to English. "I was wondering when you'd make your entrance. And who is this… lovely creature?" His gaze lingered on me a moment too long and I felt Judas's arm flex under my grip.
Judas didn't smile. His expression was ice-polished and lethal. He tilted his head slightly. "You seem to forget not to provoke me, don't you, Oleg?"
The man's smirk widened, unbothered by the chill in Judas's words. "Provoking? My apologies, Romanovski but I'm just curious, you don't usually bring… dates to these gatherings." His eyes flicked back to me, and I felt the weight of his scrutiny like a physical touch. "She must be special."
"Special enough that you'd do well to keep your eyes to yourself," Judas grumbled and the other men beside Oleg flinched.
The man chuckled, raising his glass. "No offense meant, Romanovski. Just admiring."
"Admire as much as you want. Maybe it's the last time you'll ever see her," Judas smirked. "Or see at all."
Oleg's smile faltered.
"Let me make one thing clear. She is not your concern. And if I find out anyone even thinks of involving her in any discussions, I'll make sure they never speak again."
The threat was unspoken but loud enough to echo in the silence that followed. The man swallowed, his face pale despite his attempt to maintain composure.
Judas turned slightly. "Enjoy the party," his hand rested lightly on my lower back. "While you can."
He led me away before anyone could respond, his steps steady, his grip firm but not harsh. My heart was pounding, my mind spinning.
"Do they always… talk like that?" I asked hesitantly.
Judas glanced down at me. "They're rabid wolves, ptichka. They'd do anything to drag me down."
I shivered, not from fear but from the possessive edge in his words.
Despite the splendour, my nerves remained on edge, heightened for some reason.