“What makes you think I was the one to send them to her?”
Was Sebastian serious? Christian’s knuckles cracked. “You sent them the first time. Luckily, the person who received them is a friend and wouldn’t take your money. Afterwards, I had the IP address traced.”
Finally, Sebastian’s cold eyes bore into his. “What a resourceful bloke you’ve become, but I had nothing to do with this set.”
“I don’t believe you,” Christian said flatly.
“Like that matters. I’ve greater things to worry about than your opinion of me.”
Now that Christian did believe, but he refused to let it bother him, because why should things ever be any different between them?
***
Vladimir Romanov took one look at his youngest son, pressed his lips in a thin line, then escorted him to the Von Lichtensteins. Their daughter, a popular socialite who moved in American and European circles, was shoved in Christian’s face. His father’s idea of the perfect spouse. But of course, spouse meant business transaction.
Christian winked and flashed his teeth at the dark haired woman. She hid behind her hand and let out intermittent high-pitched giggles while their respective fathers launched into a diatribe about the Euro’s competition with the Dollar.
“What did you think of the big award show you went to this year?” she asked, her voice breathless. Her gaze slid over to their parents, then back to him.
He raised a brow. “Which one?”
She widened her eyes and placed a manicured hand over her chest. “Oh, any of them.”
“The food was bad, the company worse and the length atrocious. Other than that it was absolutely stupendous,” he said. Actually, he rather enjoyed attending them and meeting his fans. They would line up days ahead of time to show their support. For them he’d always show up, always take a picture and sign an autograph. Only he couldn’t let his father know it.
Christian took great pleasure in letting Vladimir think that he only pursued acting to irritate him. Most likely, his father wouldn’t think of keeping the people that paid good money to watch him on screen happy or that Christian would ever be grateful for their support.
The Baron and Christian’s father looked at him with expectation written on their faces.
Play the part, Christian. He inclined his head, murmuring, “Of course, it would have been all the more bearable had you been my date. In fact I’d be honored if you’d accompany me to my next awards show.” He glanced at his father, whose mouth wasn’t pinched or frowning. It was the closest Christian would ever get to a job well done from Vladimir.
Their parents walked away.
“That was a good one,” Kate said, smiling at the cameras aimed in their direction.
Rocking back on his heels, Christian sucked in air through his teeth and gave a light shrug. “Not my best performance, but you were entirely convincing, dear Kate. My ears bleeding copious amounts of blood can attest to it.”
Kate Von Lichtenstein, dubbed by the British tabloids as Peaches due to a very unfortunate sixteenth birthday party incident, playfully swatted him on the arm. Her smile widened, dimples playing hide-and-seek in her cheeks. She hated their fathers’ machinations as much as he did, but they played their parts well. Simpering socialite and playboy actor. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t exactly playing at a part.
She linked her arm with his, pressing closer in the imitation of flirting. “How long are you staying tonight?”
He covered her hand with his, conscious of the very best angle that would serve to make their parents happy. “Just until the cavalry arrives. Then it’s off to Las Vegas to find a woman.”
Dark brows lifted and she tsked. “Ian Romanov having to find a woman—the zombie apocalypse must be at hand.”
“What do you mean Chemsky won’t budge on FRC?” Vladimir asked, capturing Christian’s attention.
As if on cue, his brother joined in on the conversation. “I have a meeting scheduled with Ivan on Monday. Rest assured he’ll see things our way.”
“Excellent news, Sebastian. Trust you to have everything in hand.”
Christian inwardly flinched as Vladimir gave Sebastian a hearty pat on the back and a look of respect. One that he would never bestow upon Christian. One that Christian thought he no longer cared about. But tonight, for some reason it twisted; it clawed and burned his insides.
“Come with me if you don’t want to die of boredom.” His cousin, Sasha, clapped him on the back. “Or from the lobster rolls. Paula Dean, that goddess of butter, would gasp in horror.”
“I’ve often wondered if your obsession with that woman had come to an end.” Christian let go of Kate and turned to face him.
Sasha canted his head. “You say obsession; I say worship.”
Christian grunted, then shot an apologetic glance at Kate whose attention was clearly elsewhere. From across the room, his brother’s eyes connected with hers for the briefest of moments before Sebastian looked away. Kate seemed to deflate.
What a bloody idiot. Christian gently patted her shoulder. “It’s time for me to make a run for it.”
Bright spots of pink colored her cheeks, before she flashed a brilliant smile. “I’d love to come with you.”
Christian lifted her hand to his lips.“We both know I’m not what you want.”
A wistful expression covered her face. “I’m not what he wants either.” She turned, walking away with her head held high as she melted into the crowd.
“Your brother’s a prat.” There was no love lost between Sasha and Sebastian. Rather strange if anyone asked Christian, given the way the three were inseparable growing up. Then again, Sasha had cast his lot with him instead of Sebastian.
“No argument from me there,” Christian replied. Kate would survive. Just as she always had. He pulled out his phone and texted his pilot. “Well, I’ve done my duty and now it’s off to Vegas to find a woman.”
Sasha scrunched up his nose on one side. “You do know women are here.” He gestured at the crowd of people. “In this room. Right now.”
Christian shrugged. “Not what Martha has in mind. I have to find a small town girl.”
“In Las Vegas?” Sasha asked, his voice incredulous.
“I’ll roll the dice and see what happens.” Christian grinned and slid his phone into his pocket.
Sasha raised his brows. “You are extraordinarily horrible at gambling. I’ve never seen a man more unlucky than you at cards. ”