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The clerk clears her throat. “Mr. Leonov, is this your guest for the evening?”
“She’s a VIP. Diamond tier.” He gives the clerk a dazzling smile.
She blinks, pink dusting her cheeks as she returns his smile. Hers is a little more gooey than his. “Of course.” She reaches over the counter toward me. “May I have your hand, Madame Baranova?”
I blink. I’m not used to being called Madame, seeing as that’s my grandmother’s title. But, I guess that’s how people will view me now that Andrei and I have gone public and the previous Bratva leaders have all died or gone into hiding.
The only woman left for the title is me.
I give her my best, practiced smile. “How do you know my name—” I check her name tag. “—Kelsey?”
If my men run this place, I need to learn how to be helpful, starting with keeping up with its staff.
Her smile is patience incarnate. “We’ve been expecting you, Madame. I apologize for not recognizing you at first. Please, I’ll need your scan for VIP access.”
Hesitantly, I give her my palm, and she places it on top of a cold, white pad. A light flashes, and with that, she has stored my handprint inside their database.
“Thank you.” The clerk smiles again. “Stay as long as you’d like. Our Diamond members have unrestricted access to our facilities. We hope you enjoy your visit.”
Andrei takes my hand and leads me into the next room. Past a heavy black curtain, the lounge opens into the heart of the club. Most of the room is taken up by a dance floor, but the wall to our right is entirely devoted to the largest bar I’ve ever seen, its shelves stacked high with liquors of all shapes and sizes and colors. Soft pink light filters across the room, flickering between silhouettes moving across the dance floor.
Andrei’s hand in mine helps dull the sense of overwhelm flooding my system.
Heat at my back makes me glance over my shoulder. Ezra’s dark eyes lock on to mine, and what remains of my nerves settles in a heartbeat.
Andrei leads us toward the bar. The moment we approach, both Andrei and the bartender exchange nods. A neat row of drinks appears the next instant, each of my men raising their glasses to their lips and downing the clear liquid in an instant.
I eye my own glass warily. “What is it?”
Ezra grunts and slams his glass down. “Drink.”
When I hesitate, he palms the bottom of my glass and tilts it back, splashing the liquid over my lips.
Water. Room temperature water.
As it streams down my chest, Mikhail laughs behind us. I toss him a glare and grab his drink, sniffing its contents.
Their drinks burn with alcohol.
As another round of shots arrives, the men grab theirs before I can snatch one away. As they down their seconds, I down mine.
Water. Again.
I glare at Mikhail’s shit-eating grin.They’re all in on it, the fucking bastards.
“You have not eaten,” Ezra says pointedly, catching onto my ire. “You do not drink.”
“If anyone needs a little liquid courage tonight, it’s me. I’m the one confronting my stalker, here.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t see any of you confronting your demons.”
Ezra downs a third shot. “They live within us, lisichka. We do not need confrontation.”
“We’re best friends with ours, actually.” Mikhail wraps an arm around my shoulder and turns me towards the dance floor. “Come, let’s find out where yours is hiding, hm? It can’t be far.”
As I stare out at the sea of bodies, my stomach drops. I’ve never been out dancing. Even before the wedding, the few lessons I had involved long skirts and practiced movements. None of it involved dancing like this. Bodies sashay across the hardwood, some in groups, a few as couples, but all of them in sync with the beat. Many people touch each other freely, moving from group to group, swaying their hips and enjoying the moment.
Nerves flutter across my skin. “I think I’m good back here.”
“Nonsense.” Mikhail tries to drag me away from the bar, but I snag Ezra’s arm as an anchor.
