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I start to type so he’ll see the three dots, then stop. It might be childish, but screwing with his head feels damn good.
LILYANA!!
I’m warning you for the first and only time.
RIGHT. See you soon. X
Something about the kiss at the end makes me giggle. Or is it the champagne? I hiccup, a sour bubble burning the base of my throat.
I need some air.
Outside, the night is cool and clear. I’m grateful for the breeze, but it really brings home how much I’ve had to drink, and I lean on the wall so I don’t lose my footing.
I’m dimly aware of Morgana, Josie, and Heidi, but my vision is misty, and they sound like they’re underwater.
A black car pulls up at the curb. My thoughts are sluggish, like trudging through mud, but I feel an inkling of recognition. This car has no license plate.
No license plate. No—
My friend’s screams seem to come from miles away. I watch as though paralyzed as a man in a ski mask climbs out of the driver’s side, closing down on me with terrifying speed. I try to cry out but can barely gasp out a choked whisper.
Help.
25
Twenty minutes earlier…
Arman
“Goddammit, man!” Sasha waves a bottle under my nose. “Why are we here if you hate it so much? This place was your idea!”
Wrong. We’re here because Lilyana learned sweet fuck all from her experience with Seb. Lying to me about her plans and whereabouts was extremely unwise, but leaving her phone at home was an even more careless decision.
If I were just possessive, I’d have acted out when I realized my girl was going out without me. For her bachelorette night, with her married friends, but out nonetheless, wearing a dress that shows off her long legs and perfect skin.
As it is, I’m also protective of her in every sense, which means more than physically guarding her.
The whole point of her marrying me is to be safe and live her life. I’m not a loser who bitches at my woman for her choices—she can do what she wants—but that doesn’t mean I won’t watch her. Closely. I’m not far away, but I won’t intervene unless necessary.
The private mezzanine gives a good bird’s-eye view, and I scan the dance floor and bar, desperate for a glimpse. When I still can’t pick her out, I check my phone.
Yep. She’s here. I just can’t quite work out where.
My phone plays the message tone, and I frown at the screen. Josie? What does she want?
It’s a photo of Lilyana winking at the camera, and I smile. The padded wall behind her gives it away; the girls are in a private lounge. Good. They’ll be safe there.
I reply, telling her to enjoy her night. Sasha pours me a considerable measure of whiskey over ice, and I sniff it.
“What flavor of nut-brown piss is this?” I ask. “I thought Vlad and Timur had gone to freshen up the supplies. Where the fuck are they?”
On cue, Timur appears at the top of the stairs, holding a bottle of Grey Goose in each hand. Vlad is behind him, toting what appear to be buckets.
“Ice in one and wings in the other,” he says, dumping the bigger bucket before me. Avel is over my shoulder instantly, scooping chicken into a napkin.
“Brat, how is it you eat so much crap and still look like a nineties Calvin Klein model?” Vlad asks, setting up the vodka rocks. “It’s not fair. At my age, I have to eat a lot more kale and a lot less takeout if I wanna keep my six-pack.”
Avel laughs. “I’d say it’s genetics, but you two aren’t as solid as you were, so it’s gotta be youth on my side. It’ll catch up with me eventually.”
