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Ivan did not care for new faces. “New” meant unpredictable. After proving himself when he broke into the American black market, the precarious arrangement he'd spent eight long years cultivating would not tolerate the unfamiliar. There was little room for “new”, like unknown blonds deciding to crash every social event his city had to offer.
To the stranger's credit Ivan hadn't placed him until recently, despite his surfacing wherever Ivan turned. His social wiles at parties blended him right in amongst the politicians, businessmen, and people not already in Ivan's pocket. One moment he was just there, sauntering around as if his presence were common. The man didn't seem intent on hiding himself, but instead spoke to anyone who would listen.
Now that he did notice his emergence, a piece of Ivan was unnerved, and he wasn't the one personally exposed to him yet. But the rest of him, a part of him that was growing in demand, was…curious. He wanted to meet the newcomer capable of putting everyone so at ease, albeit on Ivan's terms.
Nursing his drink, Ivan skirted around him at the fundraiser, the sheer congestion of the event making it easy to avoid the man. Eduard, his usher for the evening, was a practical man who slid seamlessly in the space next to him during such wanderings. Ivan lowered his drink. "Yes?"
Eduard didn't glance at the clipboard containing a detailed list of names for those in attendance as he said, "Security identified him as Alfred Jones. Turns out he wasn't registered to arrive tonight, but he's in possession of an invitation. The paperwork is being run, but I believe it's authentic. Do you want to exhibit caution? I can make a request for him to be escorted off the premises."
Invites weren't handed out to just anyone. Ivan's contribution had to reach a substantial amount to get in the door – another price he must pay for ambiguity. But it wasn't impossible to find other means of joining a large benefit like this one. The man wouldn't need to forge the letter if he were that good. Coming to a conclusion, Ivan finished his drink and handed Eduard the empty glass. "No, this is fine. I'll see to him myself."
Partygoers opened a path as he made his way through the crowd. A scant few addressed Ivan, forcing smiles and waves, but no one tried to stop him. Drawing closer to his target, he picked up on idle pieces of conversation; the blond man spoke animatedly to a small throng of white collar business owners and their wives. They saw Ivan and excused themselves. Wanting to see what the stranger might do while off-kilter, Ivan didn't allow him the opportunity to orientate himself.
"Hello," he said, "I do not believe we have met."
The man turned, his body relaxed, but the motion was too quick to feign complete calm. Ivan was granted a full look at him. His suit, white slacks and a navy blazer, were outlandish and better situated at a yacht club or private school. Chiseled features, stylized hair, a clear-cut figure…all very provincial of someone belonging to this status.
Except his glasses weren't enough to detract from the blue of his eyes.
Recovering, he introduced himself. "No, I don't think we have. Alfred F. Jones. And since you must be wondering, the 'F' stands for fantastic because that's how I am at everything." Alfred adjusted the hold he had on his drink and reached out a hand, to which Ivan accepted after mentally shaking himself from his reverie. Their grips were equally firm.
"Your parents raised you to be modest," Ivan said.
Before he could finish introductions Alfred spoke up again. "No, no, let me guess. Three piece suit – an obviously keen fashion sense. Model?"
"Ivan Braginasky."
That served to get a reaction from Alfred, although Ivan was the one left unbalanced. He wasn't certain what to make of the smile that encompassed the man's entire face, just that it was blinding in its intensity. He'd expected apprehension, not this excitement.
"The imports tycoon, right? That Braginasky? Well, this certainly is a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"
"And why is that?" he asked, still thrown off. The feeling was one Ivan wasn't sure if he cared for or not.
"Ah, right. I'm actually here representing—" A clumsy waitress or drunken attendee bumped into Alfred, halting his explanations. The contact didn't appear rough, yet the force of it sent him careening forward. He collided with Ivan's chest, their height difference preventing his chin from ramming into Alfred's skull.
Ivan did manage to get a whiff of his cologne, the scent mingling with the expensive product in Alfred's hair. His head reared further away to keep from leaning in to smell more of it. As soon as Ivan raised his head everyone in the room averted their eyes, resuming conversation or pointedly looking anywhere but at the spectacle he was a part of.
Planting a warm hand on his chest Alfred took half a step back, causing Ivan to glance down. All pretenses of suave professionalism vanished as the man stared wide-eyed at the mess. His glass must not have been touched with how full it was when it'd spilled over Ivan and his suit.
"Oh no. Put this on my tab—" Alfred started, searching his person. "Wait, are there even tabs at a fundraiser?" He reached inside his breast pocket and retrieved a wadded up handkerchief. "Would you still think highly of me if I changed the donation amount from my company—" Giving up on trying to soak up and dry their clothes, Alfred deflated and wrung the piece of fabric between thumb and forefinger. "You know what? Just send me the dry-cleaning bill. Better yet, with how fired I am I'll buy you a new suit myself."
Ivan laughed, the sound rising up unbidden. Alfred's hands dropped to his sides as he forgot his ministrations. He said, "You are not what I expected, Alfred Jones."
"You forgot the fantastic part." His smile returned, albeit wanly. "For real though, an apology is in order. I just started for these guys and I don't want my mishap to reflect badly on them. They're a swell group of people."
"Think nothing of it," Ivan said, surprising himself with how calm he was. He went so far as to wave an idle hand. "This attire is not so hard to replace. I own many more like it already."
"Are you sure? I don't mind compensating you for the hassle…"
How novel, Ivan thought of Alfred's sincerity. He said, "If you insist, then perhaps I can consider some way for you to make amends. My flat is not far. If you don't mind regaling me with information on the company you work for along the way, I am interested in learning about you." Alfred cocked an eyebrow. "And those who employ you, of course. Please, tell me more?"
"Why Mr. Braginasky," Alfred said, expression schooled, but Ivan felt the distinctive ease to his shoulder blades as they molded into the palm he laid flat on the man's back. Alfred allowed himself to be led toward the exit, "do you always invite prospective partners over or should I spill wine on you every time we meet? That could get a bit pricey for the both of us."
"This once I am willing to make an exception." Ivan determined he didn't, in fact, mind being the one on his toes in this way. But, to be certain, he was interested to see if Alfred would stay with him until morning so he could find out.