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Forcing a laugh, I turn down the alleyway that leads to Round Midnight’s secret entrance. “I suppose that makes this your last chance to run, then,” I joke as I throw the car into park and kill the motor.
“I think I’ll take my chances.” Alina’s blue eyes glint. “Besides, I know a trick or two that could bring you to your knees if you try anything, bud.”
This time, my chuckle’s genuine as I study the spitfire sitting across the console from me. “I have no doubt,” I assure her.
Slipping from the driver’s seat, I head around to Alina’s door to help her from the car. Then I take her to the metal door that rests along the alleyway’s nondescript brick wall. Pounding out the secret knock, I wait stoically as Alina does a nervous dance beside me.
“You alright there?” I ask, giving her some side eye as I quirk an eyebrow.
“I really feel like you’re testing me right now. Like I’m doing a trust fall, but so much creepier.”
Before I can respond, the club’s bouncer slides the door open with a scowl. “Welcome to Round Midnight. You have the money?”
I wordlessly hand him the cover charge.
“Right this way.”
He gestures for us to follow him into the long, deserted hallway, and the door clangs shut behind us. Alina yelps, gripping my arm more tightly as she keeps her head on a swivel. Our steps echo off the cement floors and red brick walls broken up only by the occasional industrial light encased in a bulb cage.
As we near the underground bar, jazz music starts to filter toward us. Alina’s shoulders relax visibly, her smile returning as she glares up at me. But she doesn’t say a word, and when we enter the boisterous speakeasy filled with patrons, her eyes light up. When she spots the woman dressed in a gold-sequined sheath gown singing on stage, a live band behind her, Alina’s jaw drops.
“Okay, this is so cool,” she admits as the man who showed us down the hall pulls out a chair as he designates our table.
Alina accepts it with a thank-you, and I settle into the seat opposite her. Beaming, Alina meets my eyes.
“Did you see the dance floor?” I ask cheekily, nodding toward the open space with couples spinning and twirling in a blur of colorful fabrics.
Alina glances over her shoulder, and her smile widens. “I hope that means you actually intend to dance with me tonight.”
Chuckling, I give a curt nod of concession. “If you insist.”
“I do,” she says, leaning across the table toward me.
“A drink first?” I offer as our server arrives at our table.
She’s dressed in a sharp black pantsuit, her auburn hair coiffed into an impressive interpretation of a 1920s hairstyle.
“Gin and tonic?” Alina says, her uncertain tone making it into a question.
“Make that two.” I hand the server my card, and she departs with a polite nod.
“How do you even know about this place?” Alina demands as soon as we’re alone again. She plants her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm as she looks up at me in fascination.
“I grew up on the streets of Boston. All of us gutter rats know this is the place to go when you want to get into trouble but not get caught.”
“Is that what we’re doing tonight, Mishka? Getting into trouble?” Her voice is soft and alluring, encouraging me to make trouble with her.
“Not if I can help it,” I counter. “I don’t have a penthouse where you can sleep off your hangover.”
Alina laughs, tipping her head back as the melodic sound fills the noisy room. Damn, this girl is dangerously fun.
Our drinks arrive a short time later, and as we sip and enjoy them, the conversation flows between us. Alina goes on about her dog, Boris, and how he was a present from her brother on her eighteenth birthday. She tells me all about how it drove her father crazy to have a puppy in the house but that he’s so adorable, it didn’t take long for Boris to become the family favorite.
“I’m pretty sure my father would pick the dog over me any day,” she says, smiling affectionately.
“I doubt that,” I counter. “From what I saw today, your family cares for you deeply.”
Alina’s cheeks turn a deep shade of rose, and her expression softens. “I know,” she agrees warmly.
