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“Is something wrong?” I ask cheekily, meeting his eyes over my shoulder. I’m teasing him, though I know I shouldn’t. But the champagne has made me bold, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve wanted so desperately for a man to touch me.
“I’m not a pole for you to dance on,” he states, his voice low and surprisingly soft against my ear. But his words hurt all the same.
And before I can object, he steps back from me, his fingers releasing my hips a moment later as he stalks through the crowd back to our table.
“It was sweet of you to try!” Katie shouts in my ear, and she presses a fresh glass of champagne into my hand a moment later. “Some guys just don’t know how to let loose.”
I shake my head, trying to pretend like it doesn’t bother me as much as it does. “His loss if he wants to be a sourpuss.”
But that doesn’t stop me from downing my champagne glass in one burning gulp, and when I pass it to the busser walking by, Tammy’s right there to hand me another.
I shouldn’t keep drinking. I’ve lost count of how many glasses of champagne I’ve had between dinner and the club. From the way my lips buzz and my skin tingles deliciously, I know I’m perfectly drunk. But that’s not about to stop me.
It’s my twenty-first birthday, and the guy I’m crushing on hard stopped just short of calling me a stripper. I know it’s petty and stupid. It’s not like I’m going to make him jealous when Mishka so clearly doesn’t like me.
But that doesn’t stop me from grabbing the nearest guy and wrapping my arms around his neck to bring him close. “Let’s dance!” I call as my eyes flash over his shoulder toward Mishka.
His brooding gaze finds mine with a fresh level of intensity. Disapproval is written all across his face, and I don’t know if it’s because he thinks I’m acting like a slut or if he might actually regret walking away from me. But whatever the case is, my new dance partner seems more than willing to take his place.
He’s tall, my new partner. He leans down to wrap his body around me, one leg pressing between my thighs as he brings my chest firmly against his. And he sways with me, moving in a circle that doesn’t match the song’s beat.
The sharp scent of body odor combined with whiskey fills my nose as he turns his lips toward my ear. “Hey, beautiful. Want to come home with me tonight?” he offers.
Sweaty arms snake around my body, and a jolt of anxiety blasts through the drunken haze fogging my brain as his hands travel down my waist to palm both my ass cheeks.
The alcohol roils in my stomach as I suddenly realize just how stupid my attempt at making Mishka jealous really was. Holding my breath to ward off the man’s offensive scent, I lean back, my palms finding his chest as I try to push him away. But in his state of inebriation, I’m not sure he can read the signal for what it is.
“Get off me,” I command, pushing harder when his hold tightens around my waist.
“Give me a kiss, and I’ll think about it,” he counters.
My stomach drops, and I turn my face away, scrunching my eyes closed as I fight his ardent embrace.
“I think you’re done here,” a low, deadly voice states, and my eyelids snap open as the drunken man’s arms suddenly slacken around my waist.
My eyes meet stormy-blue ones for only a moment before my brother’s familiar voice joins the quickly escalating scene.
“Get your hands off my sister if you want to keep them,” he warns.
4
MISHKA
It’s near agony, fighting the urge to enjoy Alina’s flirtation. I don’t know if she’s toying with me intentionally or if she just doesn’t know any better. But I do. Viktor’s already warned me to keep my hands off his sister. And that shouldn’t be so hard to do.
But despite my hatred for her father, I can’t seem to shake my attraction toward Alina. She’s daring, a free spirit who refuses to be pinned down despite her family’s blatant attempt to rein her in. And though I’m trying to keep my head in the game, it’s been nothing short of torture to watch Alina model tantalizing outfits, cast suggestive glances my way, and dance provocatively with her friends all night.
When she dragged me onto the dance floor, I nearly lost it.
The intoxicating scent of her perfume. The way she combed her fingers into my hair. The feel of her ample hips rolling back against me, suggesting the kind of pleasure we might enjoy together. If Viktor hadn’t given me an explicit warning, I might not have been able to help myself.
But nothing is more important than getting revenge for my brother. Not even a pretty girl.
Sascha is the only reason I’m here.
And until I can give him peace, I refuse to allow myself to get distracted.
Until I see his hands on Alina.
