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His hands, sliding over me instead, his breath warm against my ear. His warm, hard body pressed against mine, his cock gliding in and out of me, slow thrusts that made me moan again and again?—
I want to see him again. There were no promises made about that last night, no mention of it. I’d been a little disappointed—I wanted him to ask me to come back. To want more of me so badly that he couldn’t help but ask. But he hadn’t, and I wasn’t going to push the issue.
When my stage show is over, I head back to the dressing room to change into my lingerie to walk the floor. I go through the motions of the floor dances, the tips flowing a little better than usual, which is a relief. I’m about to go to the bar to get a glass of water when a hand suddenly shoots out, grabbing my wrist and stopping me.
I jerk my hand away instantly. “You can’t touch?—”
“Mila.” A deep, gravelly, Russian-accented voice says my name, and I spin towards the source of it. My heart nearly stops in my chest as I see the Bratva man who approached me at the party, the one that Lorenzo was both jealous of and worried about.
Egor.
“It’s Angel here,” I snap. “And you can’t touch.”
“I do what I like.” His voice is rough, staying just low enough beneath the music that I have to strain a little to hear him. “I want a dance. In the back room.”
“I’m not sure I?—”
“I pay double.”
The offer makes me hesitate. Every instinct in my body screams at me to run from this, that this man is dangerous, even more so than the cop. Adams is a threat, but he’s bound by the law—or at least, mostly bound by it. Even a dirty cop can only bend it so far. This man has no boundaries. He’s restrained only by his pakhan, and his own moral code. I suspect the latter is loose, possibly nonexistent.
But at the same time, I’m not entirely sure that he’s going to accept no. And while that makes the prospect more dangerous, there’s still a bouncer outside the room. Double the money, while playing along enough to find out what this man wants, seems like the safest bet.
“Follow me, then.” I try to keep my tone light, flirtatious, the way it was back at the party, but a tiny bit of fear colors it. Unfortunately, I think that will only make him more interested.
Egor follows me, and it makes me feel like I’m being stalked, like a predator is following me back into a small, enclosed space. I glance at the bouncer as we walk past—a new guy whose name I don’t know, which makes me feel more uncomfortable—but he doesn’t meet my eyes. My stomach cramps with nerves, but I keep walking.
“You can put the money on the table,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice light as we step into the room, flirtatious and a little playful. My heart is beating so hard I half worry he might see it—under no circumstances can he see the pills I have in my bra.
Lorenzo was worried about this man knowing that I’m selling product for the Campano family, and now here I am, in that exact situation.
Carefully, as I go to turn the music on, I start to reach to slip the pills out. I hear the sound of footsteps just in time, and turn to see Egor hovering behind me. I tense, feeling the small bag on the verge of slipping out of my bra.
“You’re supposed to wait on the couch. Too eager, are you?” I tease lightly, trying to keep the fear and discomfort out of my voice. “Patience makes it so much better.”
“I’m not a very patient man.” His voice is a low growl, but it doesn’t remind me of Lorenzo’s. There’s nothing arousing about it. It just makes me afraid, makes my heart thump in my chest, and my pulse starts to beat harder in a way that only has to do with terror. I’m afraid that if I don’t get the situation under control, I’ll end up against the wall, screaming for the bouncer and hoping he comes before Egor hurts me.
“Don’t you want what you paid for?” I smile at him. “This is all part of the show.”
He narrows his eyes at me, grunting low in his throat, but he backs away to the couch. I breathe in and out, steadily, waiting a moment for him to settle before starting the music with one hand and surreptitiously sliding the pills out and into the tissue box with the other.
I can see from the way he’s looking at me as I sway towards him that he’s going to be difficult. The moment I get close, he reaches for me, palming my ass with one thick hand as he pulls me closer.
“No touching.” I push his hand away, as lightly as I can manage, but his hand returns to my hip immediately.
“I paid enough,” he growls. “I know what you girls do.”
“I don’t,” I tell him firmly, dislodging his hand again. “I don’t offer those kinds of services.”
“No?” He cocks his head, his dark blue eyes narrowing sharply. “What about for the Campano brother that you deal for? Do you offer those kinds of services for him?”
My blood runs cold in an instant. It takes everything in me not to let it show on my face, to keep my breathing even, and look Egor in the eye. Even so, I feel myself falter, missing a beat in the music, and I know he sees it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I toss my hair, turning my back to him as I start to gyrate, but his thick hands land on my waist, spinning me back around roughly.
“You’re lying. Pretty little ballerina, fucking the mafia underboss. Tale as old as time, isn’t it? But he has you moving his drugs, too. I want to know more.” His fingers dig into my waist, and I rear back, pulling away.
“You’ve got the wrong person.” I move back another step. “I’ll dance for you, but that’s all. I don’t know anything about drugs or the mafia.”
