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Anya and I stand back to back, each with a tall, dark Russian man glaring down at us. I’m not sure if we’re safe with them or not. And why is my Russian glaring at me? I don’t even know him.
“I’ve seen you before.” More than a few times, I made an excuse to go up to the front desk to see if he was still there, hoping he was. I never garnered the courage to talk to him, or even to go out in the hall when he was sitting there, so the little glimpses had to be enough. I slowly rub my palm over my black dress, wiping away Jason’s blood. I should keep my words to myself but the several glasses of wine I’ve had has loosened it beyond my control.
“My name is Maxim.” He says nothing else, no last name, no explanation as to why he’s there or who he is, just his first name.
“My name’s Mandy,” I blurt out.
The left side of his lips tics. “I know.”
“You do? How? Who told you?” My questions fly out fast and even to me sound a little paranoid. But this man, this huge, menacing—and dangerously handsome—man keeps staring at me like he’s going to pounce on me, and I’m not sure I’d stop him if he did.
He gives a pointed glance at my wineglass and asks, “How many have you had?”
“I lost count at sex—I mean sex—fuck—I mean six,” I blurt out then burst into a fit of giggles. Giggles! I’m too old to giggle, but here I am doing just that.
Didn’t I want to ask him something?
“Six glasses.” He picks up the glass. “Just wine?” He looks disappointed. Did he think I should have been downing shots of fireball? Doesn’t he know that will make me sick and I’ll end up spending the night hugging the toilet?
“I’ve seen you before.” Didn’t I say that already?
“He hides behind the plant in the hallway,” Anya says from behind me then we both break out laughing.
“Why would you live in a plant?” I laugh harder.
“All right.” Arman’s voice breaks through our laughter. “Let’s get them home.”
“I’ll take this one.” Maxim gently cups my elbow.
I pull away from his grip, and my laughter dies. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not right here.” But then I start laughing again, because he’s frowning, and I know I’m supposed to be scared, but I can’t… I think maybe it was seven glasses of wine, not six—maybe eight? Do I count the glass I had with Natalie before I went over to Anya’s?
“You have to be firm with them, Mandy, or they won’t take you seriously,” Anya says, but her voice trails off.
I look back at Maxim. “Do we have to leave?”
“Yes.” He nods.
“Should we let him take Anya?” I point toward her, being escorted away by her husband. “She’s mad at him.”
“He’s her husband. He won’t hurt her,” he promises and cups my elbow again. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
I sigh. Suddenly I’m very tired. “Fine.” I look around for my purse but can’t find it.
“What are you looking for?” He sounds annoyed now. I’m taking up too much of his time.
“My purse. Maybe those guys took it.” I take a step in the direction the security guards whisked them off to, but Maxim tightens his hold and pulls me back to him.
“It’s here.” He lifts the small bag from where it’s hanging over my shoulder.
“Oh.” Suddenly there are tears in my eyes. Dammit. I’m an idiot. I quickly wipe them away. “If you can just get me a cab, I’ll get home all right.” I gently pry my elbow from his grip, but he’s not having it. He slides his hand down my arm until our fingers are entwined.
“I’ll take you home.” He tugs and then I’m walking. He easily winds us through the crowds; they all part for him when they see him coming. I catch one woman licking her lips when she notices him, but then she sees me, and daggers shoot from her eyes.
“Bitch,” she throws at me when we pass her. She folds her arms over her chest.
“Why would you call me that?” I tug on Maxim’s hand, but he doesn’t stop. “Wait. I want to know why she said that.”
He stops, looks down at me, then over my shoulder. “Who said what?” he demands. I think this man could kill someone with the look he has right now, and I’m sure she doesn’t want to be killed tonight.
