AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When I was born, fortunately for me—and my mother—Grigory stepped up to the plate, and just like my brothers, treated me like a full member of the family from day one. There was never a moment in my life they let me feel like an outsider. And for that, I will be unwaveringly loyal to them until my death.
That made losing Grigory that much harder. He’ll never get to see what I can accomplish.
Which makes me hate Dimitri Yegorov that much more. He stole the father I owed everything to.
Everything.
* * *
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Charleigh
I slouch into Niko’s deep, well-worn leather sofa, thrilled to be off my feet after three hours of serving drinks in the club lounge, and kick off the stripper high heels Dominika makes me wear. I rub some circulation back into my cramped toes, and don’t care if it’s an inappropriate thing to do in front of Niko.
I have no idea what sort of rules of decorum they have here, but I am guessing when I break them, someone will let me know. I mean, if they don’t want me rubbing my feet in front of them, they shouldn’t make me wear these shoes.
But Niko says nothing, just watches, the corner of his mouth turned up like he’s amused or something.
His office is beautiful, paneled in the dark wood I’ve seen all over the club, clearly some expensive decorator’s idea of masculine décor. The built-in book shelves are fully loaded and not with tattered paperbacks like we have at my house. These are serious books with dark covers and gold lettering running down the spines. I’d like to go over to see what Niko has on offer but the books are probably just for show.
They can dress this place up any way they like, but it doesn’t hide who these guys really are.
I reach for one of the sofa’s throw pillows to pull into my lap to cover my thighs. The short skirt they gave me doesn’t leave much to the imagination, and when I sit, I’m pretty much exposed for the world to see. But I need to play it cool instead of hiding behind a pillow, so I just pretend to stretch. I won’t let them know they have me uncomfortable. That I have no idea what’s around the next corner, and that I’m scared shitless. That I know these aren’t nice people, and that they wouldn’t hesitate to eat me for lunch.
Especially that Dominika. The woman is a witch, plain and simple. She looks like one with that hair piled high and makeup applied with a spatula, she sounds like one with her high-pitched voice and Russian accent, and she acts like one, screaming at people and ordering them all over the place.
The only time she acts like a normal human being, I’ve noticed, is when she’s with guests, or the brothers, Vadik, Kir, or Niko.
What’s interesting, though, is that I was not in the club twenty-four hours before I grasped how much she clearly dislikes them, in spite of smiling to their faces. It could hardly be more obvious. She knows she has to watch herself around them, though. Defer to them. Let them remain in charge. As insincere as all that is.
Maybe I could learn something from her. This fake-compliance is a survival tactic. And I’d like to survive.
“I’m having a drink,” Niko says, getting up.
Jesus. People here drink around the clock. While I’m not sure what time it is—I don’t see any clocks and the windows in Niko’s office are darkened—I figure it’s noon-ish. So yes, I’d love a drink. And I don’t drink. I want to forget where I am, and stop thinking and worrying about what lies ahead. But I have to keep my wits about me. Stay sharp. Look for opportunities to get the hell out.
Leaving will probably mean the worst for my father. But how far does my loyalty, my obligation extend to a man willing to use me to alleviate his problems? And what if my younger sister, Evie, is next in line, next time Pops messes up? If I find a way to leave—I meanwhen—she’s got to come with me.
I force a polite smile. “I’ll have another water. Thank you, Niko.”
He looks at me approvingly as if this is some kind of test, and reaches into a small fridge for another Perrier. He twists the cap off and hands it to me.
Of course this is a test. Everything is a test. They are constantly watching me, trying to figure me out just like I am trying to figure them out. We have conflicting objectives, and we both want to win. Problem is, they are pros at this and I don’t know shit.
When Niko passes me my water, his fingers brush mine. He holds them there for a moment, both our hands on the green bottle, and strangely, like the time he stroked my hair in the hallway, his touch is comforting.
Good god.
The man made me sign a contract to agree to essentially being kidnapped, and I like the way his fingers feel on mine?
What is wrong with me?
And what is with this place?
They give me a beautiful room and nice food as if I’m some sort of important guest. Then, they subject me to Dominika’s hellish orientation, including painfully tearing out all my pubic hair, and make me walk around half-naked in stripper heels serving cocktails at nine in the morning to a bunch of gross old pervs. I get stopped in the hallway by some greasy criminal, and Niko whisks me away to his plush office, smiling his handsome smile and giving me fancy bottled water. Not all prisons have bars, as the saying goes.
If these people are trying to fuck with me, they are doing a great job. I’m completely off-balance.
