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“Naughty girl,” he replies with a wicked smile that makes my blood fizz. “I like naughty girls.”
I angle my head. “Is that right?”
“What’s this, then?” a second voice comes from behind me. “Who’s being bad?”
My heart sinks. It’s Kirill. When’s he going to get the message that I don’t want him around?
“No one,” I snap.
“Relax, Mackenzie,” he tells me. “We’re only having a bit of fun. Isn’t that what you’re here for, too?”
He’s right. That’s exactly what I’m here for. And through my champagne goggles, Kirill no longer seems half as scary. In fact, he’s grinning at me, and his smile makes him seem friendly.
He can dance, too, I notice with approval. His muscular body moves in perfect time with the music, and a small crowd gathers around him, creating a circle with him in the middle. He moves his hips like a stripper on stage, and it’s clear he knows he looks good. Suddenly, he drops down, landing in a press up position from where he appears to be fucking the floor. People whoop and holler. He rolls to one shoulder, and then flips himself back up so he’s on his feet.
Okay, so that was kind of impressive and kind of hot. Despite myself, I’m clapping and hooting along with everyone else. I feel like I’ve seen a different side to Kirill.
I drink more champagne, and then find myself sandwiched between him and Valentino, and I grin from ear to ear, forgetting all the bad shit for one blissful moment.
Across the dance floor, I spot Dom standing, motionless, his arms folded across his chest. He’s staring right at me. What a prick. I bet he hates seeing me having a good time with his friends. If it’s something I can use to piss him off even more, then I will.
I force myself to flirt with Kirill too, flicking my hair, and leaning in too close to him whenever I speak. I catch him staring at my tits and put my shoulders back and push them out even more.
Maybe I’m playing with fire, but right now, I’m happy to get burnt.
Chapter 12
Mackenzie
My brain appears to have swollen to twice its size overnight, and it is pressing against the inside of my skull. My eyes are gritty and sore, and my mouth tastes like something has crawled into it and died. This isn’t good. I need my meds.
I didn’t draw the drapes last night, so the morning sun is hitting me full in the face. I turn my head and groan. I need water, pronto. Then meds. Then food.
What can I remember? I search my poor, dehydrated brain and try to put the pieces together. I recall the fight with Dom, and then dancing, and the champagne, but I didn’t drink enough to feel this bad, surely. I was careful. My heart sinks. Fuck, was I flirting with Kirill? I was definitely flirting with Valentino. What happened after? Did it go any farther than just flirting? How did I get back to my room?
What the fuck happened last night, and how the hell did I get so damn drunk?
I literally have no idea. As far as that part goes, my mind is a complete blank.
Groaning once more, I half sit and force my eyelids open. There’s a glass of water and a couple of Advil on my bedside table. Where did they come from? I’m pretty sure I didn’t put them there. There’s something else as well. A note.
I sit up fully, the sheet falling away from my body.
I’m completely naked.
My heartrate kicks up a notch, bouncing off the inside of my ribs. What the fuck? Why am I naked? I never sleep naked. Where are my clothes? I spot my silver dress near the bedroom door, and my shoes have been tossed to one side, leaving a trail. Shit, my underwear is next, my panties left in a tiny puddle of silk beside the bed.
No, no, no, no, no.
What the hell did I do last night? I’ve got a feeling the note will give me a clue.
With a combination of curiosity and dread, I pick it up and open it.
My jaw drops.
Thanks for a fun night. Los Demonios.
Mentally, I translate. The Devils. Wasn’t that what Camile had told me everyone called Dom, and Valentino, and Kirill? The three of them. Did that mean they were all here last night? Did they put me to bed, naked? Or did something else happen?
