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“I don’t really feel like clubbing, Cee.”
“It’s to make up for our birthday.”
Guilt twists in my chest. Right, I’d forgotten. Between dealing with Andrei and learning the ropes as the new head of the Antonov Bratva, my hands have been really full.
“I’d love to go, Cee, but I can’t exactly go wandering off now. I’d have to alert our security detail well in advance and—”
“Good thing I already told them.” Charlotte grins.
“What? When?”
“Earlier this week. I had them scope the place out. Don’t worry,Boss. They’ll make sure we’re safe while we have some well-deserved fun! It’s not every day you turn twenty-six.”
Boss.
My thoughts immediately snap to Andrei. I’m equal parts flustered and angry. Flustered because the mere memory of his rich scent or his rough voice sends heat pooling between my legs. I wish I could control the way my body feels when I think about him, but I can’t. It reacts on instinct, every fiber of my being seeking him out like a moth to a flame.
And I hate it.
I hate it because I shouldn’t be thinking about Andrei this way. I still can’t get the image of his gorgeous body out of my head. Even beneath the concealment of his suit, I could tell he was well-built and muscular. Our run-in at the bathhouse only confirmed my worst fears. I was tantalized by his intricate tattoos, amazed by his chiseled pecs, strong arms, and washboard abs. I wanted to run my tongue over every inch of his skin—and that makes me want to hate him all the more.
Even though I’m bone tired and not really excited to spend my make-up birthday at some loud, sweaty, sticky club with overpriced drinks, I’m even more desperate to get Andrei out of my head.
He’s my enemy, I repeat to myself.He kidnapped me and it stressed Dad out so much he had a medical emergency!
The last thought is the final push I need. What better way to forget about a man than to drink and dance the night away? After weeks of being cooped up in a musty basement, I’d say I deserve to let loose.
“You know what? I’m in.”
* * *
The club my sister takes me to is genuinely impressive. Sleek and modern, the light up floors pulsing with the beat of the music and the intricate light show bouncing off the high ceiling screams elite and exclusive. There’s nothing tacky about this place—no need for a disco ball, a crowded bar, or sticky floors. It may be a new establishment, but I can tell it’s already a massive hit with the locals.
“Cheers to your safe return and your promotion!” Charlotte squeals as she raises her glass of bubbly.
She sits across from me at our private booth. We’re in the VIP section on the third-floor mezzanine, overlooking the dancing Friday-night crowd below. It makes me a little anxious to be around so many people. Granted, my twin and I are surrounded by ten of our most loyal bodyguards, but their presence does little to calm my nerves.
I had five guards on me when I was kidnapped. Just because my security detail has doubled, I’d be a fool not to be a little antsy. If anything, I might owe Andrei a thank you for pointing out the flaws in our preparedness. He caught me off-guard once, but he sure as hell won’t ever be able to do so again.Nobodywill.
Charlotte seems to be having a hell of a lot more fun than I, already tipsy off her second drink and swaying in time to the music. She chats happily about everything I missed while I was away, making sure to keep things as light and jovial as possible. One of our cousins is contemplating studying at Oxford. Uncle Dima and Aunt Nat have been planning a trip to Italy for the summer.
“I think Freddy has a new girlfriend,” Charlotte says with a delighted giggle. “He won’t tell me about her, but I’m pretty sure it’s that girl he met the other day at Aunt Nat’s clinic. You know, the new nurse?”
I roll my eyes. “Leave our brother alone, Cee. You know how private he is. Maybe he’s waiting until things get more serious before he mentions her to us.”
Charlotte runs her hand through her red hair, twirling a loose strand around her finger. “You’re probably right. I guess it can’t be easy, knowing who our family is. I wouldn’t blame him for wanting to protect the girl.” She leans forward against our table, resting her elbows on the surface as she traces the rim of her glass with the tip of her finger. “So… Tell me about him.”
“Tell you about who?”
“Andrei Nicolaevich.”
I set my jaw. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Come on, Sandy. I was worried sick about you. Can’t you spare me a couple of details?”
“I don’t know what you want to hear, Cee. I sat in a dingy basement for weeks. He made sure I was fed and didn’t cause any trouble. That’s it.”
Charlotte arches a brow, watching me curiously. She’s always had a knack for reading people, and I’m no exception. “That’s it,” she echoes. The way she says it makes it sound like a question.
