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The chatter around our VIP section came to a halt. Jorgev locked eyes with me, then chuckled. His fat belly moved like a bowl of Jell-o. I let him go and returned my gaze to Katya. But my vision of her was obstructed by a group of dancers in front of her section.
“You funny,” Jorgev said, and patted me on the back, clearly not understanding that I hadn’t been joking.
I gritted my teeth and waved away a waitress.
“Maria has a tight ass,” Jorgev said, this time without touching me. “You should hit that.”
I had no idea what Maria’s ass looked like, nor did I care. I tensed. In fact, the only ass I cared about had just gone out on the dance floor with her friend Mia.
Katya looked stunning in her strapless dress that fell just short of her butt. When she turned around, I noticed her dress didn’t have a back. Why the fuck was her entire back naked?
As if he’d felt my stare, Ilya looked up at me. He sat two tables down from where Katya had been sitting, on a red and white sectional with velvet drapes hanging above it, like the top of a mini circus tent. He nodded at me, and I returned the gesture. Yeah, we had an understanding. He got to take Katya with him, and as long as she was safe and sound, I didn’t rip out his guts.
Ten more minutes passed, and Ilya came to our table to sit next to me. The only reason I tolerated him was because he was Katya’s brother. She’d take offense at me slaughtering him. Yet another reason I couldn't just side with Sokolov over murdering Aslanov. My old mentor likely wouldn't spare the son.
“You should take her away from here,” Ilya said.
“She’s no threat to your throne.”
“That’s not why I want her gone.”
I pondered this for a moment. Unlike what Aslanov was trying to pull, a woman couldn’t lead a Bratva. Let alonemywoman. Ilya should have known that she wouldn’t interrupt his plans.
“Then why?”
His gaze turned stark. “He plucks apples from the orchard for her.”
My eyebrows rose. Not what I was expecting him to say.
He turned to look at me. “Can you believe it? The Butcher of the Balkan himself climbs into a fucking tree to pick the best apples for his daughter.” He chin-jerked toward a table at the far end of the room, where three burly men sat. “The Volkovs over there can’t wait to rip Aslanov’s throat out, same with his daughter. Yet, Aslanov wants to keep her right by his side. I never thought it possible, but the cold bastard actually seems capable of loving someone other than himself.”
Ilya and I were similar in a way—we were both unwanted by our fathers. Mine had killed my mother, whereas his had cut her out of his life, after which she’d committed suicide, according to rumor. I intended to ruin the senator, Ilya wanted to usurp his father’s throne.
I sighed. “She doesn't see him for the monster he is. Katya tries to see the best in everyone. And when they don’t treat her with respect, she isn’t shy in reminding them.” Or leaving them.
I debated going up talking to her, when some asshole who swayed on his feet stumbled up to her. Katya tried to move away from him, and immediately two of her bodyguards rushed forward. But not before the asshole had placed a slobbering kiss on her shoulder.
My brain short-circuited. Some other man had put his hands on her. He had dared to fucking touch what was mine.
I barely took in the fact that Katya slapped him, or that the man got dragged away. I pushed through the crowd on the dance floor and growled when unfamiliar hands touched me. I wasn’t in the mood. The haze of red clouding my vision only lifted somewhat when I grabbed Katya’s arm.
She spun around, ready to punch me, when she saw it was me. For a second, there was unbridled joy on her face, but then it changed to a scowl.
“What are you doing here?”
“Taking back what’s mine.”
***
KATYA
Butterflies exploded in my belly. Kristoff’s mere presence was enough to ignite an Olympic-sized fire inside of me. I took him in like I did my next breath—black slacks, a gray shirt, and a scowl that promised hellfire. Carnal lust exploded through me. I wished that everyone in the club would disappear, so I could push him onto the nearest couch and have my way with him. But that was my hormones talking. Clearly, I needed to get my period, which was late this month, because of all the stress.
Also, judging by his thunderous look, he’d be the one pushing me. Down onto my knees, to suck him off. I was so sick and twisted, that despite all our unresolved issues, I’d be perfectly okay with that. And why not? All I’d be throwing out the window was my self-respect.
I shook my head when his words penetrated my lust-filled brain.
“I’m not going back with you,” I stated.
