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This is mortifyingly embarrassing and, simultaneously, so freaking alluring. I’m constantly torn between gawking at him and looking for a spot I can stick my head in to hide.
I glance at my best friend, and seeing how happy she is with the attention she’s receiving from the other two men, I have to admit it’s fun.
Allowing my mouth to curve into a shaky smile, I suck in a brave breath of air, then lock eyes with my tall, dark, and handsome man.
This time I’m rewarded with the left corner of his mouth lifting in a hot grin, followed by a slight dip of his head.
Dear God, don’t let my heart race any faster. I don’t want to die of a heart attack at eighteen…almost nineteen.
“It’s fun, right?” Abbie asks, then she holds her drink up in the direction of the three men, giving them her prettiest smile.
“Yeah,” I agree. I look around the rest of the VIP section, trying not to come across as desperate for another glance at the gorgeous man.
But again, I fail, and before I know it, we’re locked in a heated stare. I swear on all that’s holy, there are enough sparks flying between us to light up an entire city.
Chapter 2
Misha
I’m hardly paying attention to the playful banter between Armani and Alek. They’re arguing about who will approach the girls first.
Shortly after we arrived, the sound of laughter drew my attention, and I locked eyes with a being that can only be described as an angel. I haven’t been able to look away from the woman since.
Her heart-shaped face, button nose, and perfectly shaped cheekbones and jawline make for the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“The black-haired beauty is mine,” I murmur before pouring the vodka down my throat. They can fight over the other one that’s pretty in her own way.
“I’m trying my luck with the flirty one,” Alek chuckles. “I need to get laid before we start training.”
“In your dreams, my friend,” Armani says, his tone light with laughter. “When you strike out, I’ll swoop in for the kill.”
We don’t get to do this a lot.
Fuck, hardly ever.
Alek and I are enforcers for the bratva, whereas Armani is an enforcer for the Italian mafia. The bratva and mafia have been in an alliance for over fifty years, so we work together as brothers.
For the past five years, we’ve been thrown into the deep end of the criminal world, killing and beating up whoever we were sent after under the supervision of our bosses. Once they were satisfied with our show of loyalty, we were offered the chance to train with the best.
This is our last night before we start training at St. Monarch’s. Viktor Vetrov, the head of the bratva, issued an order for us to receive training, and knowing his uncle runs St. Monarch’s, I’m going to do my fucking best. The last thing I want is for my boss to hear I’m slacking. Shit like that doesn’t bode well for your future as an enforcer or your chances of staying alive.
After checking in at St. Monarch’s, where we’ll be staying for the next four years, we decided to visit the nearest nightclub.
My eyes are still locked on the black-haired beauty as the thoughts cross my mind.
But for tonight, I’m not Misha Petrov, hitman and enforcer in training. I’m just a man looking for a good time with a woman.
The moment I saw her, I knew she’d be the one.
Another tumbler of vodka is nudged toward me, then I hear Armani asking, “What did the two ladies order?”
“Cosmopolitans,” the bartender answers.
With the nightclub situated near St. Monarch’s, the bartender must be used to coming face-to-face with the likes of us.
The tattoos on the back of our hands are a dead giveaway as well. The right hand’s ink is three swords crossing and rosary beads down our middle finger with praying hands over the knuckle. The swords are for Alek, Armani, and myself, and the rosary beads are for our loved ones, praying they’ll remain safe.
The left hand has two sentences, one across and one from the wrist to our ring fingers. The words down are in Russian and across in Italian.
