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The manager wasn’t in the office when I stopped in to ask about the extra champagne order. I could either wait for her to finish whatever had called her from the office or go in search of her. I glanced at Pietro, silently asking if he had Nova’s location yet.
Grimly, he gave a shake of his head.
Muttering a curse, I walked out of the office to find the manager. The VIP was on the second floor, and from experience, I knew Roza was most likely there. More often than not, it was the VIPs who caused more issues than the average clubgoer. They thought that since they had the money and the celebrity, they could do whatever the fuck they wanted and get away with it.
Roza was an old friend of Mom’s from another time in her life, so I was confident she could handle any situation that arose, but it wouldn’t hurt anything if I had a look around.
As I climbed the stairs with Pietro, my gaze traveled around the top floor in search of Roza. The woman was easily over six feet tall without heels, but she favored stilettoes that put her at least six inches taller. With her porcelain complexion, blue eyes, and blond hair that flowed down to her waist, she was easy to spot in any crowd.
When my gaze fell on her, it was to find Roza standing in a back corner. Her head was thrown back as she laughed heartily, the sound reaching me even over the pounding bass from the DJ below. Getting to the top of the stairs, I straightened my tie and was about to step in her direction when she shifted.
A group was sitting on the couches in front of Roza, all of them in designer clothes, glasses of champagne in their hands. But like a magnet, my eyes went straight to the tiny blonde with her feet tucked up under her. With her dress so short, the way she was sitting caused her panties to flash anyone sitting.
And they were all fucking looking.
23
Nova
I had to admit, it was exciting working with Emmie, but I had no idea where she found the energy to keep up with everything for one client, let alone four at once. I felt like I was about to drop by day five. With the next night being New Year’s Eve, and my last day working with the three rockers I’d been translating for, I was ready to get home and sleep for a few days before having to go back to school.
But Laura and Garik were sad to see that our time was nearly up and had convinced me to go out with them. I’d tried to get out of going by telling them I didn’t have anything to wear to a club, but Garik had rectified that by sending me a dress and heels. Knowing I couldn’t avoid going without seeming rude after seeing how beautiful the dress was, I got ready and met them downstairs.
Garik’s wolfish whistle as I exited the elevator echoed through the entire lobby, causing heads to turn left and right. Laughing, I crossed to where he and Laura were already waiting with Park Min Gi and his translator, not in the least little bit sad that Rossi wasn’t with the group.
Honestly, I was surprised Emmie hadn’t already slit Rossi’s throat and tossed him in a dumpster as she’d threatened that first morning I’d met everyone. I doubted she would be continuing as his manager after all the shit he’d put her through all week, though. No amount of money in the world could possibly be worth the aggravation that came with that asshole, in my opinion.
“Krasivaya,” Garik called out as I reached them. “She is much beautiful, yes?” he said to Park Min Gi.
Pink filled my cheeks. I’d been teaching Garik and Laura English all week, and Park Min Gi had been steadily teaching me a little Korean. Other than being tired from all the work I’d been doing, and having to deal with Rossi, I’d had a lot of fun with these rockers.
“Much,” Laura agreed, taking my hand as we walked outside. It was freezing out, but I hadn’t thought to grab my coat, assuming it would be like everywhere else we’d gone all week. Straight into whatever vehicle was transporting us from Point A to Point B and then being shuffled into the warm building where either an interview took place or one of my charges did a live performance.
The limo was right outside the hotel entrance, so I barely felt the brisk wind as we climbed in. Garik, Park Min Gi, and his translator followed us in. It didn’t surprise me when Garik started handing out drinks from the minibar. I took the glass from him but didn’t even sip at the contents. The others were all over the legal age to drink, but I was only seventeen, and I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble, myself included.
Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up in front of the club Garik had been saying he’d promised his friend he would stop in at all week, and I realized I stupidly hadn’t thought to ask which club his friend worked at.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I groaned, tipping my drink back and downing it as I tried to think of some excuse to get out of this particularly sticky situation.
The sting of the alcohol quickly calmed some of my anxiety, and I reminded myself that Anya rarely worked at Iron Hand these days. She’d turned the day-to-day running over to a manager. A manager I, thankfully, had never met, so it wasn’t like the woman would recognize me.
Garik got out first and went to speak to the bouncer manning the door. Every staff member spoke Russian, something Anya insisted on. Everyone from the bartenders to the waitstaff were all in the US on work visas. She helped them get their citizenship and even set up sponsorships for them for the first few months if they needed a place to live.
He was gone less than a minute, and then he was opening the door and offering me his hand. “Roza is expecting us,” he said in Russian, winking down at me.
Swallowing my nervousness, I put my hand in his and let him usher me quickly into the warm club, keeping my head down on the chance that someone who might actually recognize me wouldn’t.
Once we were in the VIP section and a crowd moved in around us, blocking me from possibly curious eyes, I started to relax. Laura excused herself to go to the bathroom, but when I asked if she wanted me to come with her, she waved me off, blowing me a kiss.
Sighing, I kicked off the heels Garik had given me and tucked my aching feet up under me just as a champagne flute was pressed into my hands. Roza, the manager of Iron Hand and Garik’s “old friend,” who also just happened to be his distant cousin, was standing over us like the goddess she was, joking with Garik and watching Park Min Gi like she was starving for a taste.
Laura dropped down beside me, making me bounce on the couch we were spread out on. I squealed, my boobs jiggling from the action. It wasn’t lost on me that Garik’s eyes zoomed in on the fact that I’d nearly flashed him and the rest of the club because the dress he’d bought me didn’t allow for a bra.
Laughing, I wagged my finger at him just as a prickle of awareness skated over my entire body. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The music drowned out my moan as I slowly turned my head, my eyes searching for and finding him as he stormed through the VIP crowd.
Prowling toward me like the lion he was, he was dressed in his custom suit and long, two-thousand-dollar coat. Every person in the vicinity turned to watch, most of them knowing exactly who he was—the king of the pride. Some of them were envious of the power that exuded from his every pore, and others half in love with him at first glance.
All of them scared shitless of the destruction he could and would wreak with just a flick of his wrist.
