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Charlotte holds onto my hand tight so we don’t lose each other in the crowd. We look like an item, dressed in matching mini dresses. She’s in bright red while I’m in emerald green.
“We look like we’re celebrating Christmas,” I mentioned to Charlotte when she loaned me her clothes. Since it took nearly twenty minutes to shimmy into the damn thing, I decided not to bother trying anything else on.
It’s busy in here. Loud, too. Not to mention insanely crowded. I’m usually fine in tight spaces, but the heat of the air and the smell of sweat and alcohol makes me dizzy. It’s also hard to ignore all the eyes following us as we move toward the bar. A small thrill races down my spine. It’s almost exciting knowing how many people are interested in us. Maybe I can find a nice guy to help me forget all about my dumb-handsome-sexy-fucking-jerk problems.
As Charlotte beckons the bartender over, my memories wander to this afternoon in Mikhail’s office. I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on in my entire life. The desperation of it… The haste and the hunger… It was so utterly divine. I wasn’t at all surprised when I walked away with my panties totally soaked through. He flustered me and drove me out of my mind with lust; I had to hurry to the bathroom to finish myself off.
Mikhail had me seconds away from release, and he stopped. He stopped because he thinks I’m married. I was too frazzled to explain myself, not that he gave me much of a chance to.
A part of me wonders if I should tell him the truth. That I’m not, in fact, hitched. If cheating is apparently where he draws the line, then he should have no qualms when he realizes there’s no Mr. Foster in my life. Then again, I’m treading dangerous waters as it is. Mikhail is still my boss. He’s also twice my age. If word gets out, it could seriously harm both of our reputations. I can already imagine all the snide comments the Tech Bros might make.
The worst thing is that those comments wouldn’t be unwarranted, either. Is sleeping with Mikhail worth all the trouble?
“Here you go,” the bartender says, sliding two red cocktails towards us.
“Oh, thank you, but I didn’t order this.”
The bartender tilts his chin towards someone sitting at the other end of the bar. “The gentleman bought it for you.”
Charlotte and I follow his line of sight. Seated a couple yards away is a man dressed in a spiffy light grey suit. Where Mikhail is roughly twice my age—I don’t think he ever gave me an exact number—I can only assume the man over here is at least twenty or more years older than that.
He’s dashing as hell and incredibly fit. His hair is completely grey, and he wears it slicked back with the sides cropped short. The stranger’s eyes are a misty blue that stands out against the light color of his suit. While the other guys at the bar sit awkwardly, vying for the attention of any pretty girl who happens to pass by, he sits with an air of power and authority. He seems like he could care less about my reaction to his gift, though his eyes do linger for an answer one way or another.
Charlotte nudges me with the tip of her elbow. “Hot damn,” she has to shout in my ear to be heard over the loud music. “Looks like you’ve got Sugar Daddy’s attention.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, stop that.”
“We should go say hi!”
“Wait a second—”
Leave it to Charlotte, a woman made of pure and unattainable energy, to skip off toward him without a second thought. I have no choice but to follow, thanking the bartender with a five-dollar tip.
As we approach, the stranger gives Charlotte and me a polite nod. I have to admit that there’s something familiar about him, though I can’t quite figure it out. Maybe it’s the shape of his nose or the line of his jaw… he reminds me eerily of Mikhail. I have to push the thought out of my mind.
“Good evening, ladies,” he says, his words heavy with a foreign accent. Russian, if I had to guess. Definitely Slavic.
“Thank you for the drink,” I say. “Very kind of you.”
The man holds his hand out to shake. “Konstantin,” he introduces.
I smile sweetly, slipping my palm into his. “Aurora. And this is my friend, Charlotte.”
“An absolute pleasure.” He brings my hand up and presses a light kiss to the back of my knuckles.
“So, Konstantin,” Charlotte says as she flirtatiously twirls a strand of her hair. “What brings you out tonight? Feel like joining us on the dance floor?”
Konstantin smiles. It’s measured and practiced. “No dancing for me, I’m afraid. Just looking to kill a bit of time before I meet my nephew.”
I arch a curious brow. “You’re meeting your nephew here?”
He chuckles. “I’ll admit it’s a lot more popular than when I was here last.”
“And when was that?”
“Almost five years ago. I haven’t had the chance to visit New York in a very long time.”
“Where’ve you been?” I ask lightly. “Anywhere exciting?”
