Page 22 of Clubs


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He takes off his glasses and hooks them on his shirt so they hang above his chest. “No, you couldn’t.” His eyes fall down, tracing the outline of my body. “But what can I do for you?”

His words aren’t coated with irritation toward me like Mikhail’s are. “I’m bored,” I admit as I step toward the table and take a seat on the cushions next to him.

He narrows his hooded honey-colored eyes. “I unlocked your door so you’d have the opportunity to look around before Mikhail comes back,” he says almost hesitantly. “And he will be here very soon.”

I give him a strange glare with my eyebrows raised. One of Mikhail’s men shouldn’t be going against him for my benefit, but I’ll gladly take it. “How long have you been on this ship?” I ask, growing curious.

Dimitri doesn’t show any anger toward me, and in the position I’m in, that’s like finding a diamond at the bottom of the sea.

He looks up while he loses himself in thought. He must have been here for a while if he has to take a moment to think about how long it’s been.

“I’d say about a year. Don’t quote me on that though.”

“I see,” I mutter, lifting myself off the couch and walking to the door. “What should I explore?”

His fingers comb through his hair as he clears his throat. “The bar. But you’d enjoy the small office on the second deck.” He winks at me, moving his arms behind his head, and I notice a gold ring on his finger.

Most men in the Bratva only marry for title, but Dimitri seems like the kind of man who’d marry someone for love. His personality doesn’t scream “business.”

“I’ll check it out,” I say to him with a smile.

“Sloane,” he calls for me just as I’m about to step out of the room. When I turn to look back at him, he speaks before I can ask him what he needs. “Mikhail has a dinner planned for the both of you. He has a dress he’d like you toactuallywear this time. I’ll hang it on the back of your door, and I suggest you do as he says.”

I may have spoken up too soon about Dimitri. He was the one who didn’t demand things from me, although that has changed quickly.

“Sure thing,” I say, walking out of the room.

Skipping past the stairway that I took to get up here, I decide to go down on the opposite side of the boat. The longer I take with each step, the hotter I feel the sun burning the soles of my feet. Keeping myself steady by holding onto the rails, I race to the covered center of the boat. There are no walls, only a ceiling held up by two rounded pillars in the center. A huge gray couch with white, fluffy pillows sits in the middle of the area facing a TV. A couple of snake plants in light blue pots are scattered around, giving the deck the perfect amount of color.

A feeling of bliss fills my mind when a strong draft passes by me, smelling like fresh summer. I never thought a smell could feel so welcoming.

It’s a terrifying thought, feeling comfortable in a place where I should be fearing for my life. I’m not sure what Mikhail was expecting on my part, but he won’t be getting a damsel in distress. If that’s what he had in mind, he wouldn’t have put me on a floating sanctuary.

Mikhail doesn’t seem like the kind of man to go into a plan prematurely. If he did his research on me, he’d know I haven’t seen much of the world.Did he think bringing me here would terrify me?I suppose it did at first, but that was before I was able to explore, even if I have only done a little snooping around.

The quiet bliss is snatched away from me when I hear a thudding noise. I follow the noise past the entertainment system. There’s a large kitchen connected to the living room. The walls are made up of windows, which seems to be a common design concept of the yacht. I love it because I’ve lived in the shadows my entire life.

My feet don’t make the floorboards creak with each step I take. That will take some getting used to. A woman with short black hair tied into a knot on her head with a hair net has her back to me while she washes pots and pans. Mia. She must be the cook.

I stand for a moment and appreciate how beautiful the room is. White marble countertops with oak lining. The ceiling is a skylight—there’s no need for a light to be on during the day, especially since the room is open to the deck. Two bamboo chairs sit in front of the bar. A wicker bowl is placed by the sink on the island, giving the kitchen a pop of color.

I’d love to talk to Mia, but she gives off the impression she’s only here to work and wouldn’t humor my small talk.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I back out of the room quietly, careful not to make too much noise and startle her. Placing my hand around the corner, I stumble over my feet as my back crashes into something strong, and I feel two large hands holding me up from my elbows.

My neck stiffens as turn, looking up at the man holding me steady.

Mikhail.

His expression is cold, lacking any emotion, and that makes the palms of my hands sweat like they never have before. The bottom of his lip tucks into his mouth and his white, well-kept teeth graze over the surface gently. His neck thickens while he shakes his head at me.

“And who let you out?” he asks in a deep, steady voice that forces shame to corrode my insides.

“I did,” I admit with a shaky breath that I try my damn hardest to control. Technically, Dimitri allowed me to walk out of my room, but I’m the one who let myself out.

It feels like a trap. Mikhail must expect me to be at his beck and call while I rest in the room he so graciously set up for me, but I won’t.

He lets go of my arms and steps to the side. “I guess this boat isn’t big enough,” he says, not masking his disappointment at seeing me as he continues past me.

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