08-05-2024, 10:14 PM
Adrian did not exactly forget Colette’s presence. How could he, with her chattering on about everything she saw? He found himself enjoying her company less and less. It was that incessant bubbliness; he had hoped alcohol would tone her down, but the flutes of champagne only seemed to fill her with more air.
He finally noticed that she felt overlooked, but her subtle domination of conversations did not go unnoticed. He felt only a little bad about it and figured he should attempt to make some sort of effort, so he asked her to dance.
Adrian was not a dancer. He preferred to be rooted to the ground, firm and in place. The swaying and bending and sliding was not his style, but he would bet a thousand dollars that Colette liked to dance, so that was what he offered. Luckily enough, she was distracted by the approach of an associate.
Of course he knew Sofia Vasilieva. She was a Moscow icon; mixture of celebrity, influencer, and socialite, Sofia could exist unnoticed any more than Colette could shut the fuck up. As Colette previously explained at length, this connection was her entrance to the Moscow social circle. How the hell did they even meet?
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” he answered Colette’s question without addressing the fact that of course he knew her, and offered to shake Sofia’s hand if she would take it. His gaze was sharp, neither leering nor overawed. He truly hadn’t had an opportunity to meet her face to face. He looked at her as if examining her, weighing her for value. It had nothing to do with something as superficial as gender, but rather her potential in helping him achieve his own ambitions.
Next, he considered the man at her side, who readily introduced himself. Adrian accepted the handshake with as much grip as Zixin provided. Not surprisingly, both attempted to out-squeeze the other, but Adrian only let go when he noticed the barest hint of pressure creasing Zixin’s eyes.
“Adrian Kane,” he said in turn, before addressing Sofia once more. “Congratulations to your parents, Miss Vasilieva.” It was the expected sort of pleasantry to offer, and Adrian barely pulled off actually meaning it.
This was going to be a fruitful conversation.
He finally noticed that she felt overlooked, but her subtle domination of conversations did not go unnoticed. He felt only a little bad about it and figured he should attempt to make some sort of effort, so he asked her to dance.
Adrian was not a dancer. He preferred to be rooted to the ground, firm and in place. The swaying and bending and sliding was not his style, but he would bet a thousand dollars that Colette liked to dance, so that was what he offered. Luckily enough, she was distracted by the approach of an associate.
Of course he knew Sofia Vasilieva. She was a Moscow icon; mixture of celebrity, influencer, and socialite, Sofia could exist unnoticed any more than Colette could shut the fuck up. As Colette previously explained at length, this connection was her entrance to the Moscow social circle. How the hell did they even meet?
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” he answered Colette’s question without addressing the fact that of course he knew her, and offered to shake Sofia’s hand if she would take it. His gaze was sharp, neither leering nor overawed. He truly hadn’t had an opportunity to meet her face to face. He looked at her as if examining her, weighing her for value. It had nothing to do with something as superficial as gender, but rather her potential in helping him achieve his own ambitions.
Next, he considered the man at her side, who readily introduced himself. Adrian accepted the handshake with as much grip as Zixin provided. Not surprisingly, both attempted to out-squeeze the other, but Adrian only let go when he noticed the barest hint of pressure creasing Zixin’s eyes.
“Adrian Kane,” he said in turn, before addressing Sofia once more. “Congratulations to your parents, Miss Vasilieva.” It was the expected sort of pleasantry to offer, and Adrian barely pulled off actually meaning it.
This was going to be a fruitful conversation.