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“Don’t worry, Duchess. It won’t fall down. Your tits are big enough. They’ll make sure it stays in place.”
For a moment, all I can focus on is his horrible remark about my body, but then I realize something. He called me Duchess. That means either Dom or Valentino told him about their name for me.
“Are they natural?” he asks. “Or did you pay for them?”
“None of your business,” I manage.
“I like either,” he says.
Why does he think I care what his views are on breasts, the creep?
When we reach the grand staircase that sweeps down to the entrance hall, he gives a sarcastic little half bow. “Ladies first.”
I walk down the stairs in front of him, my body straight and alert the entire time. I wouldn’t put it past him to push me down them.
The entrance hall is as intimidatingly grand to me as it was the first time we arrived here. Camile sent me a text explaining that to get to the bar, I go out of the back main entrance door, and across the quad, and it’s in the building to the far right. She says you can’t miss it, as from around seven in the evening they have door staff in place.
I stride ahead, wanting to get rid of Kirill, but he keeps in step with me. The air outside is cool and, for a moment, I wish I had brought the cardigan.
Rushing to get to the bar, I walk as fast as I can without tripping in my heels.
Kirill is right beside me, and I glance at him. He smiles back, and his gaze travels down until it hits my chest, and his smile becomes a grin. “Might have wanted to wear a padded bra,” he says.
I glance down and want the ground to open up and swallow me. My nipples are showing despite my strapless bra and the texture of the dress.
“Don’t worry. It’s hot.” Kirill laughs as we approach the men on the door.
They’re wearing smart, dark suits and both nod at Kirill as he approaches.
He grabs the door for me and opens it.
The moment I step over the threshold, I think I’ve made a mistake. The place isn’t busy, but it’s not empty either. Every single head swivels our way, and people stare at me as I walk to the bar where Camile is waving at me.
Kirill is still right by my side, too. Why doesn’t he go and meet his friends? I don’t want him here.
He reaches the bar and nods at Camile before ordering a drink in Russian.
Camile smiles at me, but it’s subdued, and for a horrible moment, I wonder if she’s regretted asking me. I do stick out like a sore thumb. Most of the girls are wearing jeans and sexy tops. They are dressed up, yes, but not wearing slinky dresses.
Kirill takes the drink, holds the glass up at us, and then walks off into a darkened corner. The moment he is gone, Camile visibly relaxes, and her smile turns dazzling. “Look at you,” she says. “You look gorgeous.”
“I am way overdressed. You said dress up,” I say, accusingly.
She grimaces. “Sorry, I should have been clear and said jeans and a sexy top. I wouldn’t worry, though. You’d be right at home on a Saturday night.”
The door opens, and I turn to see who is here. For once, I’m relieved to see Verity. Relieved because she’s also wearing a sexy dress, as are her friends.
“See?” Camile says. “Now you’re not the only one. You can’t overdress around here, babe. Underdressing, though, is a crime. For the girls, in particular.”
I’m about to ask her why when a deep voice behind me says to the barman, “Champagne for the ladies.”
I whip around, and Valentino is behind me. He smiles at us. Walking around to the front of the stools we’re perched on, he shoves his hands in his pockets and gives me a onceover.
“Looking good, Duchess.”
“Duchess?” Camile raises her eyebrows.
“Don’t ask,” I reply.
