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Bristling visibly, Viktor turns his attention to Mishka as he gives a sweeping gesture to take in my new dress. “What do you think, Mishka? Should I be letting my little sister go out in public like this?”
Once again, stormy-blue eyes sweep over my body, Mishka’s eyebrows like a thundercloud adding to his stoic expression. “I don’t see that it adds any extra appeal,” he observes, his painfully indifferent tone slicing straight to my core.
Unexpected tears sting my eyes as I tip my chin defiantly. “I’m getting this dress, and I don’t care if that bothers you, Viktor,” I snap, whirling from them both and storming toward the front counter before anyone can see how deeply he hurt me.
“At least now we can go to dinner,” Viktor mutters just loud enough that I can hear.
Salty as I am after Mishka’s comment and his blatant lack of interest in me, it’s nearly impossible to enjoy dinner. But I slap a smile on my face and laugh a little harder at the jokes my girlfriends make, proving that I can have a good time even if my brother and his stupidly good-looking new bodyguard want to rain on my parade.
We buy a bottle of Dom Perignon and toast to finally having a night on the town. Then we all pile into the limo to head to Plastique. From the outside, the club looks much like any other business along the street—aside from the line out the door that extends a full city block before wrapping around the corner of the high-rise.
“Wow, business is booming,” I observe, and when I glance at my brother, he gives me a wink.
“But for my little sister, on her twenty-first birthday, we won’t be waiting in any lines,” he assures me, gesturing for me to lead the way up the red-carpet stairs.
The bouncers give me a double-door entrance as they greet Viktor by name, and then the music washes over us, drowning out anything my friends might have been saying. A dimly lit hallway opens up into a club unlike anything I could have ever imagined.
A DJ occupies the stage at the far end of the room, and before him, statue-like dancers shift between poses as the strobe lights flicker, casting them in light without ever catching their movement.
It’s almost haunting, the way they dance without seeming to move a muscle.
Other dancers poised on pedestals throughout the club follow the same chill-inducing dance as their spotlights flick on and off, throwing them into darkness before revealing their new form.
And all are breathtaking women, with only the smallest triangles of glittering fabric to cover their most intimate parts.
“Now do you see why Otets never let you come here?” Viktor shouts in my ear.
I roll my eyes at my older brother. “As if I’ve never seen a naked woman before?” I quip, gesturing to my own body as I quirk an eyebrow.
The look of pure disgust on my brother’s face makes me laugh out loud.
“I ordered champagne service for you,” he announces over the throbbing beat. Pointing to a vacant booth not far from the dance floor, he indicates where we’ll be settling in for the night.
Setting aside our obligatory sibling rivalry for the moment, I grasp my brother’s head with both hands and plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’re the best!”
Then I twine my fingers with Katie’s and Tammy’s and haul them toward the dance floor. “Let’s have some fun!” I shout, melting into the crowd and becoming one with the beat.
My girls beam as they join me, and a few minutes later, Elysse is pressing a champagne glass against my palm. Giddy with the pulsing energy of the club and the freedom of a night in which my parents don’t dictate every breath I take, I can’t help but fall into the moment.
We dance. We laugh. And the champagne fizzles through my veins as I finish several flutes of the bubbly liquid as easily as if it were water. Even Viktor seems to let go of his inhibitions as the night goes on. As adorable as his attempt at discipline was, I know my brother. And he’s the life of the party—not the one to be raining on my parade.
I’m having so much fun, I don’t even care that he’s dancing with my friends. Because, for once, my brother seems to be trying to behave himself. For my sake.
The only person who doesn’t seem to be enjoying himself is the one person I can’t seem to take my eyes off.
Mishka watches us with a steady gaze, the same glass of champagne in his hand as he’s held since we got to the club. The bubbles seem to have evaporated in his warm grasp after sitting for so long. And though his scowl is less than inviting, I can’t seem to help myself.
Weaving through the crowd, I make my way back to our table and stop in front of the brooding Russian. “Come and dance!” I plead, using the loud music as an excuse to lean close as I rise onto my toes.
“I don’t dance.” He shakes his head to reinforce the statement.
“Tonight you do!” I insist, grabbing his hand to pull him toward the dance floor. And as soon as our fingers meet, a spark of heat ripples across my palm. My heart flutters nervously, like I’m back in kindergarten with a schoolyard crush.
Despite his objection, Mishka doesn’t resist as I drag him onto the crowded dance floor. But once we’re there, I can tell he’s going to make this harder than it needs to be. Rather than taking up the beat and joining the motion of the mob, Mishka watches me with a hooded gaze, his blue eyes guarded and questioning.
Giving him a mischievous smile, I turn to look at him over my shoulder as I back up to dance against him. Reaching up over my head, I let my fingers comb into his thick head of black hair, then I slowly sway as I slide down his body.
Strong hands grip my hips, sending a jolt of excitement into my core. But rather than taking control of the dance, Mishka stops me in my tracks.
