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I sigh. “Get off my back. Seriously,” I say, sucking back a large swig of scotch. “Christ, you’re the one who had her panties down, coming all over your hand. Why don’t you take a look at your own behavior? You should have seen your face.”
He picks a piece of lint off his trousers as a distraction. That means he’s pissed. He’s never liked being called out. Not that anyone likes it. He just takes extra offense to it.
“Don’t worry about me,” he growls. “I’ve got my shit under control. But you’ve got it all over for her. Get ahold of yourself.”
Niko looks between the two of us, then around the room, trying to ignore us.
Now it’s my turn to get in his face. “You know, Vadik,” I say, lowering my voice, “you need to get over this big-brother-in-charge shit. It’s getting old.”
He looks around the room, grasping for patience. It’s funny when you work with family. You know just how to push their buttons and read their every movement.
It’s a blessing and a curse, as they say.
He turns back to me, but keeps his gaze locked on the drink in my hand, signifying I’ve really gotten under his skin. “You’re so full of shit,” he hisses. “This has nothing to do with being the oldest, Kir. It’s about Papa’s legacy. And our future. Don’t blow it over some pussy.”
* * *
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
Charleigh
“How much do you think she’ll bring in?” Vadik asks. “And she’d still better be a fucking virgin.”
Are they talking about me? What do they mean by ‘bring in?’ Isn’t serving drinks to their members payment enough for my father’s debts? And why is my virginity, which is none of their damn business, such an obsession for them?
What more do they want from me? They’ve already taken everything.
Actually, it’s obvious. I tremble as the reality of my situation gets increasingly more obvious. And horrific.
I consider inching closer to their table so I can hear more while the bartender loads me up with dry martinis for the drunks in the corner. But the flush washing over me from what I’ve already heard, the kind you feel before you faint or barf, tells me I’ve eavesdropped all I need to.
Get back to work and stop snooping.
You are just making things worse.
These men. They don’t care about me, I have to keep reminding myself. Sure, they’ve given me nice accommodations and invited me to dine with them. And yes, Vadik has magical fingers, and Kir took me to resolve my sister’s problem at school. Niko shared his story of how he is the result of his mother’s affair, and I now know what happened to their parents.
Big fucking deal. Doesn’t make us friends.
None of it means shit because all they really care about is making money off me.
These men are beasts, plain and simple. I hate them and I hate everything about them—their good looks, their arrogant confidence, their assuredness that they will always get what they want, no matter what they have to do for it.
I’ve been on my feet for three hours straight, not that any of the club members would know that. I quickly and pleasantly serve their cocktails, and chat when they want to know more about me or just discuss the weather. Back and forth, from the bar to the tables and back.
I’m not sure I’ve ever done anything more tedious.
And for nearly that whole time, amidst their socializing with members, Vadik, Kir, and Niko have scarcely taken their eyes off me.
If they think so little of me, why do they bother?
For the umpteenth time that shift, I pass their table, catching Niko’s gaze. I don’t want to look at them, but one quick glance and I’m caught.
A lock of blond hair hangs across his forehead like it often does, almost obscuring one of his eyes, like he’s some sort of rakish pirate. In a split second, he smiles at me with an upturn of the corner of his mouth. My heart skips a beat.
Or three.
Dammit. Why does he—really, all the guys—have this effect on me? They’re about to ruin my life, and all I can do is think about how sexy and seductive they are.
