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Her knees pull upward into a ball as a shiver racks her body, and for the briefest moment, I catch a flash of her upper thigh. Then I shrug out of my coat to drape it across her body.
“Thanks for helping wrangle my sister,” Viktor says, rubbing his temples as he lets his head fall back against the seat.
I chuckle darkly, somehow finding the moment of intense exhaustion more relatable than I ever thought it could be. I had a brother once, though it seemed like he was always the one keeping my ass out of trouble. “Is she always like this?”
Viktor scoffs. “Honestly? Never. She’s always been annoyingly reliable and well-behaved. I don’t know what got into her.”
I shrug. “Nobody survives their twenty-first without a bit of buyer’s remorse.”
Laughing softly, Viktor cracks an eyelid to scrutinize me. “What did you do on your twenty-first?”
Got shitfaced with my brother and let him pick out my new tattoo. “Who remembers?” I shrug casually, tossing my arms across the back of the seat and peering out the blacked-out windows to mask my pain. “Think I woke up in some chick’s apartment the next day but couldn’t recall how I got there.”
Not entirely a lie. I have no clue how my brother and I made it to his girlfriend’s apartment. All I know is I’ve got a massive Chinese dragon tattooed across my back thanks to Sascha and a poor night of decision-making.
At least the artist did a pretty phenomenal job.
The limo pulls up to the glass doors of a pristine high-rise apartment building overlooking the water. From the way Viktor glances up at the building, I know it’s where he lives. My eyes naturally trail toward Alina, still fast asleep beneath my coat.
Viktor’s eyes follow a moment later, and he releases a heavy sigh. “It’s a good thing I love the little snot. Otherwise, I’d be tempted to leave her in the car.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Want me to carry her up?”
“Damn, man. That’d be awesome. I was dreading trying to wake her up. She’s bad enough to get out of bed when she’s sober.”
Somehow, knowing that Alina is a heavy sleeper—and hard to wake up—endears me to her more. It seems fitting that the spitfire with a quick tongue and an even quicker wit would be a late sleeper.
Kneeling on the floor of the limo, I scoop her into my arms. She’s warm against my chest as her head lolls dangerously for a moment until I reposition her. Viktor slips from the car ahead of me, holding the door wide as I half-crawl, half-slide toward the door, Alina cradled in my arms.
As I move, she hums softly, nuzzling her cheek against my chest as she breathes deeply. One hand reaches up to curl around the buttons of my dress shirt. Then, she continues to sleep soundly.
As soon as we’re out of the car, Viktor closes it behind us and leads the way into his apartment building. The lobby is elegantly decorated, with vaulted ceilings that stretch several stories high. The night guard greets Viktor with familiarity, then juts his chin toward Alina.
“Rough night?”
“The kid sister’s twenty-first birthday,” Viktor says by way of explanation.
The guard just chuckles and wishes us luck and a good night.
We take the elevator all the way up to the penthouse on the top floor, Alina in my arms the entire way. The doors ding open, allowing us directly into an entryway just as grand and extravagant as the one in Sergio Sakharov’s house.
Everything about the space is open and pristine. A floor-to-ceiling wall of windows overlooks the harbor, and in the dark of night, the water reflects the city lights as if it were a sky full of stars. A sight I’m sure the Sakharovs pay top-dollar to afford.
Just the kind of luxury I would expect from a family that’s willing to massacre their competition—literally—to get what they want.
“Her room’s over here,” Viktor states, making me wonder if Alina spends the night at her brother’s house often. He leads me across the open space to a short hallway. Opening the door, he flicks on the light, then allows me in.
I lay Alina on the bed and gently disentangle her fingers from my shirt. She simply murmurs in her slip and rolls onto her side. Straightening, I stretch my back muscles from holding her for so long and try to ignore that I miss her warmth radiating into my chest.
“The fuck are you doing?” Viktor murmurs as I unbuckle the straps of her heels and slip them from her feet.
“You ever have a girl wear heels in your bed before?” I tease. “Rips the hell out of the sheets.” Not that protecting his bedding was my real motive. I just can’t imagine that sleeping in stilettos would be fun and wanted to make Alina more comfortable.
Viktor just gives a noncommittal shrug, then he pulls the blankets up over his sister and we slip from the room.
“You want a beer?” Viktor offers as we head back toward the living room.
“If you’re offering.”
