Page 23 of Lost & Found

“No, but I wanted to,” I exclaimed, that feeling rushing back.

“She’s in with Marcel,” Pasha said.

Sebastian’s gaze went to the closed door, and he nodded.

“Six feet,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

I blinked in confusion, momentarily taken aback by his anger. “Yeah, except Hannah has to cross a line. Right? Or have the rules changed?”

Sebastian’s glare softened and was replaced by a wiry grin as he shook his head. “No, I mean between you two.” He pointed at Pasha and me, clarifying. “Six feet at all times. Pretend it’s 2020.”

Laughter ripped from my chest. “You want us to social distance?”

My obnoxious brother nodded, his blue eyes so similar to mine it was like looking in a mirror, filled with amusement. “Exactly,” he said. “The Dancer knows you’re off limits.”

“You do realize we sit across from one another at dinner, right? And breakfast, for that matter. Not to mention, it’s movie night. With the way the seating arrangements are, that might be a bit hard,” I exclaimed.

He was being ridiculous.

“I’ve got my eye on you,” he said, ignoring me and directing his words to Pasha.

“Well, as long as you aren’t trying to stake your claim in me, look all you want,” Pasha said with a smirk, teasing him. He blew my brother a kiss as he walked away.

“I’m serious, sissy. You’re off-limits,” he threw over his shoulder.

Pasha and I exchanged a look. As soon as Bash was out of earshot, Pasha leaned in. “Do you think it’s only the Dancer who has to worry?” He grinned. “I mean, technically, he didn’t say anything about the Russian.”

“And rumor has it the Russian is brutal.” I lifted onto my tiptoes and trailed my finger across his face where I frequently placed his scar. “A killer, a man-whore who steals women’s virtues, leaving them heartbroken.” I moved down his cheek, loving the way his eyes dilated in the dim hallway light. “But can he withstand the Torturer’s mighty fists?”

Our gazes locked. “Tune in next week to find out if the Dancer listens or if the Russian takes over.”

He removed my hand from his face and kissed the back of it. He dipped into a deep bow. Then he straightened. “I’ve read the script, spoiler alert. He does, in fact, heed the warning. But not out of fear of the Torturer.”

“Really? So what is his reasoning?”

He hadn’t let my hand go, and my heart picked up speed. What the hell was happening here? Pasha’s eyes softened as he looked down at me.

“Because he would never hurt the Torturer’s sister, not in a million years.”

He pulled me in for a hug, wrapping his arms around me in a gesture of comfort and support. Without hesitating, I leaned into him. It startled me how easy it was to let go. In the quiet of the hallway, he held me. And at the moment, it was a simple hug with no strings attached.

No pressure. No expectation. Just the friendly comfort and warmth of a friend.

Two Weeks Later

Bambi spun around the pole. Her movements were fluid enough, but they lacked precision. The studio lights highlighted the tension in her muscles. She was good, no doubt about it. But she wanted better. I stepped closer.

“Your grip is too tight. Loosen up a bit. Let the pole guide you, not the other way around.”

She nodded, biting her lip in concentration, and tried again. This time, her movements were more controlled and smoother. She was determined to get it right and increase her cash flow at the club.

“That’s better. How about we work on spins?”

She took a deep breath and adjusted her stance. She launched into a spin, her body arching as she twirled around the pole. There was stiffness in her movements. She rested a minute, and I approached the pole.

“Relax your shoulders,” I instructed, demonstrating the motion with my body. “Like this. See how it flows?”

I mimicked her movements from earlier as she studied my body. I hopped down and notched my head to the pole.