"I'm tempted but no," Alexsey stands, stretching. "There's a couple of details I need to review about the Morales Cartel shipment. I want to make sure it's fiery and spectacular, and a complete disaster for the cartel. Then, I might stop by and visit Carissa."
"Was she the date that you ravished in the library at the fundraiser?" I ask.
"No, that was Laura."
"Yet another in your never-ending stream of dates."
"Really? You're going to judgeme, youmuzhchina-shlyukha,man whore? Your sex life is just as shallow." Alexsey pulls on his suit jacket, eyeing me disapprovingly.
"I date. Occasionally," I correct. "I run a club with dozens of spectacularly hot women willing to engage in all kinds of kinky shit. Dating seems like… effort."
"Oh, yeah, without thetediousnessof meeting someone new." He pats my shoulder. "Every now and then, though, I must admit I'm impressed when you take a woman out. The helicopter ride around the Statue of Liberty at sunset? Very smooth."
"As I recall, you fell back on taking your dates to dinner on the family yacht for months," I remind him. "How many chefs did we run through?"
"Jacques' nervous breakdown was not my fault," he says defensively.
"I don't think your impromptu orgy helped."
Alexsey grins, the smug little bastard. "Aw, you're just mad because I didn't invite you."
Actually… Iwouldhave enjoyed the orgy. "I should block your access to the club, just to fuck with you." I snag his drink and finish it. "I never feel closer to you than when we're being spiteful pricks to each other."
Alexsey toasts me with his empty glass. "Back to this girl. What's your next step?"
"I'm not sure," I admit.
Unbidden, I see Violet's anguished face, her amber eyes, staring up at me imploringly.
I don't like it. Those wide eyes making me feel like I could be… heroic, perhaps?
TheVorof the Morozov Bratva deals in pain and death, not heroics.
I finish my vodka, slamming the glass down. I am no one's fucking hero.
Chapter Five
In which some girls will just not take no for an answer.
Roman…
"We're at capacity tonight." Ivan, my second, watches the flow of masked guests moving from the huge reception area of Sinful Secrets into smaller rooms, quieter corridors. They are here to enjoy the show or put one on themselves.
We're standing in front of a bank of monitors, rapidly shifting security cameras showing every square foot of the club. Masked guards patrol all the floors, and I've hired experts to supervise each play area to make certain that an overly enthusiastic guest doesn't cause harm…
Unless their partner asks for it.
There is always something to be learned. A politician who is led around on a leash and a collar, or an A-list actor who wants to be whipped until his ass is raw.
Information is power. And my memory is excellent.
There's a flash of purple in my peripheral vision and my head snaps to the monitor on the far right. A gorgeous violet dress, it must be silk, flowing over the long legs of…
"Violet! What thehellis she thinking?"
Ivan leans close, watching her make her way through the crowd, smiling politely, but turning away from anyone who tries to touch her.
"What color bracelet is she wearing?" he asks.
