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“Hey, how did I get dragged into this?” Viktor demands. Though he doesn’t live with us anymore, my brother still comes over every Saturday for a family brunch. And today is no different—aside from the fact that it’s my birthday.
“Why don’t you and the girls have a spa day? That’s what you normally do for your birthday,” Mamma cuts in, her tone appeasing.
“That’s what we do every year. I want this one to be special.” I know I sound petulant, but the girls have been on my case for months about not going out with them.
They’re all twenty-one already and have been going to Plastique without me. Knowing that my friends have all made it to my father’s club before me is beyond humiliating, and if I weren’t such a goody-two-shoes, I would have just snuck out and joined them by now.
If I can’t convince my parents to let me go clubbing on my twenty-first birthday, then I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands. I’m legally an adult, for God’s sake. I should be able to do whatever I want. But I’ll be in a world of trouble if I don’t get permission and one of my father’s men spots me there and has to drag me back home.
I know why they don’t want me clubbing. It’s where all the “loose women” go. The women who aren’t supposed to be saving themselves for marriage. Who don’t need to find a man whom my father will deem worthy of having me as his wife. Too bad for them, I have other plans for my life and friends who are more than willing to have “late-night study sessions” so I can experience a bit of what the world has to offer.
I’m not as innocent as my parents would like to think. Even if I’ve never been inside Plastique.
I know I’m victorious when my father releases a heavy sigh of resignation, and I pop up out of my seat with a squeal, wrapping my arms around his thick neck.
“Hold on, you haven’t heard my answer yet,” he objects, giving my arm a squeeze, and when I release him, he clasps my fingers so I can’t go too far. “You can go if Viktor is willing to escort you. You’re never to leave his sight. And when he says it’s time to go, that’s the end of the night.”
He’s putting Viktor in charge of my bedtime? Works for me. My brother’s notorious for shutting down the clubs. This is going to be one hell of a night.
Still, we all turn to my brother, who sits in his usual chair, a forkful of scrambled eggs halfway to his mouth, as he pauses under the scrutiny.
Viktor’s eyes dart from mine to our father’s, then swiftly to Mamma’s before they come back to me. “Sure, why not?” he says with a casual one-shoulder shrug. “How challenging could it be to wrangle the little beast for one night?”
I flash my brother a winning smile, not even bothered by his snotty nickname because I’m finally going to see the inside of Plastique. “Yay!” Pressing a swift kiss to my father’s cheek, I squeal with fresh excitement. “Thank you, Papachka! I’m going to call Katie. We need to go shopping!”
Three hours later, we’re at the mall—me, Katie, Elysse, Tammy, Viktor, and his dark and brooding new friend, Mishka. We’re in search of the perfect dress for the evening, and seeing as I’m the only one who’s never gone clubbing, I need my girls for guidance.
“What do you think?” I ask, stepping out of the dressing room in a high-collared, lime-green mini-dress that barely reaches the tops of my thighs. Pulling it down as far as I can, I do a little twirl for the girls.
And from the corner of my eye, I catch my brother’s huff of irritation.
Beside him, Mishka stands like a perfectly carved statue, his back straight and hands flexed as if he’s prepared for a fight at any moment. I just want him to look in my direction, to give me even the slightest hint that what I’m wearing would entice him.
But nothing.
Instead, his eyes scan the high-end store as if he’s waiting for some enemy to leap from the shadows and catch us all by surprise.
“Adorable. But if you’re going to keep tugging it down like that, I think you should pick a different dress,” Katie observes. “Self-conscious isn’t sexy.”
Heat warms my cheeks when her words finally seem to capture my fallen angel’s attention. Mishka glances in my direction, and my stomach knots when the heat of his gaze travels slowly up my legs. As soon as they find the hem of my dress, his eyes dart up to my face. And for a moment, our eyes lock, melting me inside.
Then he deliberately turns away from me, dousing me in a bucket of ice-cold reality.
Stepping back into the dressing room, I shuffle through my remaining options, determined to find something that makes me feel—as Katie put it—sexy.
Pulling out a sequined rose-gold bodycon dress with delicate straps in place of sleeves, I slip into the surprisingly elastic fabric and instantly feel relieved. Though it shows about an inch of cleavage and has a rather flirtatious slit up one thigh, the dress, over all, is a bit more modest, coming down to midthigh and wrapping my body in shimmering layers that distract from my exposed skin.
With a sigh of relief, I step back out of the dressing room and strike a pose.
“That’s the one,” Katie says immediately, and the rest of the girls chorus their approval, making me beam.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit… revealing?” my brother objects, his eyebrows buckling in the perfect impression of our father’s disapproval.
“It’s a club dress, Viktor,” Katie objects for me. “Don’t pretend you’ve never seen one before.”
I laugh at the open-jawed look he turns my friend’s way—clearly at a loss for a defense.
“Just because Papachka put you in charge doesn’t mean you need to act like my father,” I add, patting my brother on the cheek.
