Liability

Chapter 19 - Rhys

"Madam Yurieva, this is my son, Rhys."

Rhys' head snaps up at his father's words and it takes him a few seconds to realize he is staring at Alenyka Yurieva, the very person he's been snooping after for the past few days. He licks his suddenly parched lips and waits for the intimidating woman to say something. He absently notes that she is a little taller than him in her impressively high heels, but his attention is on her piercing blue eyes that seem to be dissecting him, unearthing his deepest secrets with no effort.

"Mr. Martinez, a pleasure," she says finally, her voice rich and carries just the barest hint of accent, as she offers her hand. "I heard you take after your grandfather. How is Caleb? I have to admit it pains me greatly that we have fallen out of touch. He was kind to me and his mother used to be a great asset to my family."

"Alenyka Pyotrova," Rhys greets her, taking her hand and noting the pleased surprise flashing in her eyes, "the pleasure is mine. I am sorry for your loss." The words taste sandpapery on his tongue, grating on his nerves even as he pushes them out. They are at a party that is supposed to sooth any remaining concerns the public may have about the bombing after that wonderful press conference. Because throwing posh parties for the rich and powerful is the perfect response to death. He wants to ask Alenyka how she really feels, if her family is all right, but he only manages empty condolences, words that should burn his throat a little more in his opinion, but there is no way to convey any of what he thinks without making a scene, so he just moves on after Alenyka offers him a bland smile and an empty thank you. "Grandfather is well and I'm sure he would be delighted if you contacted him."

"I see my spies were right." Alenyka smiles at him, the tilt of her lips is all angles and calculation this time, and covers his hand with her other one as well. "Senator, I hope you won't mind terribly if I have your son accompany me to the refreshments. An old woman like me needs to stay hydrated. It would be most unseemly if I collapsed in the middle of this charming event."

She doesn't even look at Rhys father or wait for his answer before steering Rhys away, her arm already linked through Rhys' elbow. And Rhys feels utterly powerless to do anything but follow after her like an obedient lapdog. The feeling is disturbing but somehow not as degrading as one would expect. The way she carries herself is absolutely regal, turning heads with every step she takes. Rhys is used to the limelight and the attention, but his father is literally nothing compared to Alenyka Yurieva, and it leaves him floundering to fit the shoes she has just forced him into.

"Don't mind the mass, zolotko[Zolotko - gold]," she murmurs with a chuckle. At least Rhys thinks that's what she says, because the last word makes no sense to him. "Hold your pretty head high and show the world you don't care about their watching eyes."

"I'm used to the stares," Rhys replies just as quietly, but still lifts his chin just a little bit higher. "And I think my father wanted to introduce my sisters as well."

"Your father," Alenyka doesn't even try to hide the derision from her tone, "is a fool if he thinks I have any care for his vapid daughters. I do not tolerate empty chitchat well nowadays, you see. Must be my age catching up on me." She chuckles again, the sound throaty and smoky, reminding Rhys of jazz bars and times he's only ever heard of from books and movies. And his grandfather. It's almost funny how Alenyka tries to hide her disdain behind the fragile veil of her age when she barely looks older than Rhys' mother, who is at least ten years her junior.

"And I don't bore you?"

"A sharp, handsome young man like you? Never. If anything, you remind me of my grandson. He has the same vibrant aura. So full of life and need to prove himself." She sighs and pats the back of his hand just as they reach the bar.