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I open my mouth to call out again, but before I do, I hear a lighter click. An orange flame lights up the dark, giving me a brief glimpse of his face.
Aleksandr Kurochkin.
The flame is snuffed out, plunging him back into shadow, save for the end of his cigarette.
Slow footsteps begin to approach, and when he steps into the moonlight, my breath hitches. He’s even more stunning than when I first encountered him inside, when he was haloed by the light from the chandeliers.
He belongs out here, in the dark.
“Tell me,” he says, prowling closer, “how old are you?”
“S-Seventeen.”
“And what problems could a seventeen-year-old girl have to cause such turmoil? Surely, it’s not as dire as you think.”
I narrow my gaze at him. “This, coming from the spoiled rich boy. What could you possibly know about suffering?”
He comes to a stop only inches away, and he towers over me with his imposing presence.
Without a word, he takes a puff of his cigarette, keeping his steely gaze locked onto mine. Holding the cigarette with his thumb and pointer finger, he exhales the smoke in the small gap between us.
His fingers come to my mouth, his knuckles lightly grazing my cheek with a featherlight touch. A shudder rolls down my spine, though his skin is warm.
He puts the cigarette to my mouth, urging me to open my lips for him. And I obey without question.
When he lets go, he reaches into his sleek, black coat and pulls a flask from the breast pocket. He twists the cap off and takes a long sip before passing it to me, and I throw the cigarette on the ground. When I sling back the flask, the warm bourbon burns on the way down my throat.
I lick my lips and pass it to him. “Thanks.”
“You looked cold,” he says. His eyes dip to my chest, where my nipples are pebbling against the thin silk of my dress.
“A gentleman would offer a lady his coat.”
The corners of his mouth tug. “I’m no gentleman.”
Maybe I don’t want a gentleman. Maybe I want to be manhandled, to be roughed up so hard it erases this pain with new scars.
“Then keep me warm another way.” I reach down between us, placing my hand over his groin. My fingers snake past the opening of his thick coat, but he stops me before I can get a feel of him.
“I’m disappointed,” he says. “I didn’t take you for an easy lay.”
His words sting, but when I try to yank my arm back, he keeps his hand locked around my wrist.
He pulls me closer and whispers in my ear. “I enjoy the thrill of the chase. It doesn’t excite me when you offer up your pussy on a silver platter.”
When I step back, he releases me.
“Fuck you,” I hiss. “You’re just a stuck-up prick who thinks he’s better than the rest of us. But I have news for you—you’re not.”
He chuckles and turns his back on me. “See you around, malishka.”
I watch his back as he walks away in the direction of the party, leaving me to stew in my humiliation.
Chapter 4
Alek
A knock on my bedroom door interrupts my thoughts. I snap my leatherbound journal shut and slide it into the drawer of my nightstand. “Come in.”
