That night, the luxurious ballroom in Moscow was filled with the light of crystal chandeliers and the sound of classical music. Among the guests, Arkady Varksky stood in a slightly open black shirt, revealing the dragon tattoo on his chest. His brown gaze was cold, making anyone reluctant to approach.
Until a woman spilled champagne on his shirt.
Arkady looked down, staring at the stain on his clothes, then looked at the woman before him.
"Do you know how much this shirt costs?"
he asked coldly.
The woman raised an eyebrow.
"No. And I think you're still rich enough to buy a new one."
Yegor Tanuri, Arkady's right-hand man, immediately fell silent. No one had ever spoken like that to his boss.
Arkady stared at the woman intently, then smiled slightly, revealing his dimple.
"Bold."
"And you talk too much for someone who only lost a little champagne."
The woman simply left, leaving Arkady still staring after her.
"Who is she?"
he asked Yegor.
"I will find out, sir."
Arkady adjusted the cuff of his watch, the corner of his lips lifting faintly. For the first time, a woman had managed to catch his attention without trying to get it.
And Arkady Varksky gets what catches his attention. He set his glass down and crossed the room.
"Your name. Now."