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I gulped at the rage I saw in his eyes and quickly jumped to my feet, hoping to distract him.
I could practically taste the danger in the air. Not for myself, but for every other person in the club, not just Garik. Oh lord, Garik. Emmie would definitely be unhappy if I got one of her rockers killed. Lyric might understand, though.
Maybe.
He knew how overprotective Ryan could be. But his aunt would have a difficult time accepting that some guy decided to put a bullet in her client’s head because he did nothing more than take me to a club.
Shit.
But, of course, gulping was a mistake. My neckline dipped again, exposing more of the tops of my breasts, just as I realized that my dress had risen up my thighs, leaving my panties exposed. Laura was nice enough to tug it down, but not in time to save anyone from Ryan Vitucci’s wrath.
“Hi,” I said loud enough for him to hear me.
“Hi?” he growled. “That’s all you have to say? I find you here. With no security. No family. Surrounded by strangers—”
“They aren’t strangers to me,” I snapped, trying to remain calm. “I’m working.”
“Nova.” I’d never lied to him, not once, but right then, with nothing more than the way he said my name, I knew he didn’t believe me.
“Lyric asked me to do some translation work for his aunt,” I rushed to explain, my words stumbling over one another. Fuck, Anya had put me in situations a hundred times more stressful than this, but in the face of Ryan’s anger, I couldn’t concentrate. “Laura and Garik are…are her clients.”
His nostrils flared as his dark gaze went over my shoulder to Garik, who had jumped to his feet behind me, ready to defend me if needed. I wanted to groan, to tell him to sit down, that he was only poking the lion by standing so close. But I couldn’t take my eyes off Ryan long enough to do it.
The way his entire body was vibrating… This close, I could see it wasn’t only from anger. More than just the heat of rage radiated from his body. It was darker and more delicious. I had this crazy urge to grab a fistful of his shirt and jerk him down to my level so I could lick the vein pulsing in his neck. Taste him, his anger—his need for me? That realization had my own body reacting, and I stepped closer to him without even realizing it.
“Nova, this man is bothering you?” Garik asked in Russian behind me.
“No, no.” I shook my head frantically, still unable to tear my gaze from Ryan. “Ryan is my friend. He’s just…just…” going to explode at any moment, I finished mentally.
“Mr. Vitucci.” Roza’s voice was calm. I felt her moving closer in an attempt to defuse the situation. People were watching us, whispering. I couldn’t see or even hear them, but I could feel their tension in the air. “I assure you, everything is in order…”
He lifted his eyes, causing her words to fade into nothingness, and whatever she saw in those brown depths had her quickly apologizing in a meek tone.
“Did Ciana buy you that dress?” he demanded, his eyes shifting from Roza and back to me before skimming down my body. He’d made his opinion clear on what he thought the appropriate length of my skirts should be to everyone who knew us. His opinions were even more extreme than my dad’s, which was just one of the many, many reasons Dad was so cool about my friendship with Ryan.
He couldn’t hide his hunger as his gaze touched every inch of skin the small dress left exposed. No more than I could hide the way my nipples tightened painfully and pressed against the material. His nostrils flared again as he watched my reaction.
“N-not exactly.” I stumbled over my words once more, not sure how he would react to knowing that Garik had purchased my outfit for the night.
“My mother, then.” But he already knew that answer. Anya wouldn’t ever have bought me a dress her son would be upset over. She’d done it once, on one of our supposed shopping trips to Paris when I was fifteen. The dress had ended up in tatters after Ryan had gotten scissor-happy on the poor, beautiful garment.
“No.”
“It’s a beautiful dress, yes?” Garik spoke in Russian, probably thinking that Ryan wouldn’t understand, as he draped his arm around my shoulders. “I knew as soon as I saw it that it was made for her.”
The air around us turned so cold, goose bumps lifted on my skin. Ryan’s head slowly tilted to the right as he took in the fingers, the hand, the arm that was touching me. All the way up to Garik’s shoulder and then to his huge, shit-eating grin. There was no way the rocker didn’t know that a predator had him in its sights, and that only made his grin widen.
“He bought you this dress?” Ryan gritted out. The question was directed at me, but he didn’t shift his gaze from Garik.
“I didn’t pack anything to go clubbing in,” I said with a shrug. “Garik was kind enough to—”
“Stop saying his fucking name.” His tone was lethal as he unbuttoned his coat and pulled it off, then wrapped it around my shoulders. But it hung off me, the bottom hitting the floor and making me look like a little girl playing dress-up. His movements were jerky as he buttoned the coat up to my neck and then scooped me into his arms.
“Ryan!”
“Do not speak, my heart,” he spoke into my ear. “I am holding on by a thread.”
“But—”
