Page 44 of Lethal Obsession

Lourdes murmurs something to one of Lars’s security guys, who grins and heads downstairs, toward the DJ.

What? I mouth to Lourdes, but she just smiles in response.

A moment later, the song ends, and we hear the first unmistakable strains of Taylor Swift’s newest hit.

“Girl!” Benny halts dramatically, mid-gyration. “You did not!”

Lourdes nods wickedly. “Si, guapo, I did.”

Then all three of us are shrieking, spinning in an ecstatic circle, and for the next few minutes, even Alexei Petrovsky is forgotten.

Our enthusiasm spreads to the dance floor below, and the DJ, taking the hint, launches into an entire medley from the new album. One by one even the glamour models draped over Lars begin to dance with us, until our private space is suddenly full of laughing, dancing people, all of whom, despite their varying nationalities and the album having been out for less than a week, seem to know every word of every song.

“This is epic,” Benny yells over the music, as he takes his diva moves to the next level. I grin as I see him moving closer to the booth, but there is an increasing amount of people in the small space, and they block my view, so I can’t tell if Lars is on the hook yet or not.

Somebody steps on my dress, and I stumble. I try to pull free, then realize my dress is snagged on something. I bend down so the material doesn’t tear, trying to free myself, but people are jumping all around me and I keep getting jostled. An elbow bangs the side of my head, hard enough to knock me sideways, but the music is too loud for them to hear my protests.

I can’t find my feet, the various cocktails I’ve downed on an empty stomach making me more clumsy than usual. I’m still laughing, but my head hurts where I was hit, and I can’t quite work out how to free myself and stand up.

Then suddenly, Alexei is standing there, his lone eye blazing furiously as he glares around at the people falling away from me, two of whom are sprawled unceremoniously on the floor. Lars’s security are already picking people up and pushing the crowd back, but it’s clear that Alexei was way ahead of them.

Stand still, he mouths grimly. Leaning down, he twists my dress free from the jagged edge on the floor it’s snagged on. He touches the side of my head, frowning when I wince instinctively. “We’re leaving,” he says, and I hear the finality in his words even through the music.

“I’m fine,” I begin.

“No, you’re not.” Turning me in front of him, he walks me back to the table, the crowd parting before us like the Red Sea. “Her dress is torn, and she got elbowed in the head,” he tells Mickey curtly. “It was an accident, but this crowd isn’t getting any quieter. I need to get her home.”

“Oh my God.” Benny and Lourdes appear on either side of me. “Are you okay, darling?” Benny says, his face full of concern. “We’ll come with you—”

“No, no. Please.” I wave them both away, still half laughing. “Stay. Enjoy. I’m just exhausted after performing.”

It’s not a lie. I’m suddenly shattered, alcohol on top of performance adrenalin giving way to an emotional fragility I know all too well.

“I’ll take her.” Mickey stands up, swaying, then crashes back down into the booth, the expression of surprise on his face almost comical.

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” Alexei doesn’t look remotely amused. “You haven’t slept in days, and you’ve drunk your entire body weight in Scotch. You.” He nods at one of Lars’s security guys. “Have the car brought to the front door. I’m taking her back to your penthouse,” he informs Lars, who just waves airily at us. “There’s no fucking security at her apartment, remember?” he snarls in response to Mickey’s frown. “There’s four bedrooms in Lars’s hotel suite,” he adds, “one of which is yours, Mickey, and I have security on every entrance and exit. It’s the safest place for her.”

“I should still come.” Mickey stands up again, determinedly this time, and comes out of the booth, reaching for his jacket.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Mickey,” Lars calls over the music. “I have two nightclubs lined up after this one, and you’re coming with me. So are you,” he adds, pointing to Lourdes and Benny. “But no more Taylor Swift, I beg you.”

Benny shoots me an agonized look.

“Please, please stay.” I’m looking at Benny but addressing my brother, who still looks undecided. “I’m so tired, I just want to sleep. Alexei is right: the hotel is closer than my apartment, and besides, it’s the same one you guys are staying in. I’ll be there when you all get back, and we can have breakfast together tomorrow, okay?” Taking Mickey’s hand, I kiss my brother’s cheek hastily. “I’ll be fine,” I say in his ear. “Truly.”

Despite his clearly high level of inebriation, Mickey fixes Alexei with a dark stare as I pull back. “I’m trusting you,” he says grimly.

Alexei’s mouth curls derisively, but to my relief, he refrains from commenting.

We walk out of the VIP section with two security men on either side of us, me leaning heavily on Alexei’s arm and my brother’s eyes boring holes in my back as I go.

“Let me see that bruise on your temple,” Alexei says as soon as the limo doors close behind us.

I shake my head. “I told you, I’m fine. It was just a bump. I’m tired, that’s all.”

“Lean forward.” Ignoring my protests completely, he puts his hands on either side of my head, tilting my temple to the light so he can see it clearly.

I shiver. I forgot how safe his hands make me feel.