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It’s the devil. I’m sure of it. His eyes are practically glowing red as he stares down at me. And like the bouncer, he’s covered in tattoos, except this guy’s bald, so his ink covers his head too. Then he smiles, and fear trickles down my spine.
“Hi, sweet thing,” he says in a thick Russian accent. I swallow.
“Hi.” I take a small step back, careful not to bump into the angry guy again. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“No, no.” He shakes his head then blocks my way. “I just want say hi.” I don’t think English is his first language. “You stay.” He grabs my arm.
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head and try to twist my arm around out of his grip, but he’s not letting me go.
“Ja. You stay.” He jerks his chin toward the bar. “I get you drink.”
“No. I’m fine.” I tug harder. “I’m waiting for a friend.”
“Ah. Then we both wait. I like friends.” He smiles wider, like I’ve suggested a three-way.
“Please let me go.” I want to kick him, but I doubt my ballet slipper shoe will do any damage to him.
“Hey. Hands off, buddy!” Giselle shows up with two drinks in her hands.
“Your friend.” He jerks his head toward her.
“He wants to buy me a drink,” I say. “But I’ve declined.”
“Let her go, you asshole.”
“One drink,” he insists.
“You don’t want to mess with her,” Giselle says. “She’s engaged.”
“Engaged?” He narrows his eyes at me.
“Oh, yes. I’m engaged to a powerful man. He won’t like you grabbing me like this.” I nod insistently at him. “He’ll be very, very mad.” I talk slow to give him a better chance of understanding everything I’m saying.
For a minute, I think I have him, he’ll let me go now. But then he throws his head back and laughs, keeping his grip on my arm as tight as ever. Why can’t this prick take a hint? There’s plenty of girls here; why doesn’t he go get one that wants him?
“He owns this place.” Giselle is trying to help, but she doesn’t know who owns the club.
“Who?” He lowers his face closer to me. “Who is he?”
I lick my lips, unsure if I should say the name. It could be like invoking some demon. But, on the other hand, this guy doesn’t seem willing to go away, and there’s not a bouncer in sight to help me. We could make a huge scene, but if saying his name will end this stupid encounter, I could try.
“Roman Romanov.”
The monster narrows his eyes. “Roman Romanov.” He says the name like it stings.
“Yeah. And he’s gonna be pissed if he finds out you’re grabbing his fiancée!” Giselle yells, getting up on her toes to get closer to his face. But she doesn’t see his eyes like I do. I think I’ve just unleashed something.
“He’s engaged?” He frowns. “I don’t believe you.” He shakes me a little.
“I… why does it matter? Just let me go.”
“You lie!” He yanks me closer to him. “I want to know for sure. Come.” He jerks me forward and starts moving through the crowd toward a set of stairs in the back of the club that is blocked off from the general attendees.
“Where are you taking her?” Giselle screams while following behind us, our drinks sloshing in her hands.
There’s a bouncer at the foot of the stairs. Good. He’s not going to let this mammoth up those stairs. And he’ll know I’m not with Roman. I’ll be able to get him away from me, and the bouncer should be able to keep him away from me.
“Mr. Kozlov.” The bouncer gives a nod to the mammoth and steps out of the way, giving us free rein on the stairs.
