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I hang back and watch them leave, quietly hoping Sandra hasn’t spotted them. This is between us. I won’t risk my brother’s lives unnecessarily. They’re all strong and capable, but I’m the eldest. It’s my job to protect them—no matter the cost.
Once I’m convinced they’re gone, I turn and scan the entirety of the club, searching for a trace of emerald green. It’s difficult, at first. There must be at least three hundred people here—all of them dancing, drinking, talking. It’s a disorienting mess of faces and limbs and lights. The music makes my head hurt, the ruckus somehow making it ten times more difficult to think.
But when I see her, it’s like the rest of the world suddenly falls away.
She’s dazzling. A brilliant star in an endless nothing. I have no control over my feet as I approach, one step at a time, hypnotized by the sultry sway of her hips and the flow of her hair over her shoulders. I’m a moth to a flame, a lost ship seeking the only lighthouse for miles. There’s no way for me to describe this pull in my chest, the one that draws me ever closer to her while in a warm trance. I’m in her orbit, caught under her spell—and I don’t mind in the slightest.
Until I see some asshole dare to put his hands on her.
What pisses me off even more is that Sandra makes no effort to push him away.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out why my blood boils and my heart races, the sight of this man setting his hands on her waist fills me with an inexplicable rage. I don’t want him to touch her. I don’t wantanybodyto touch her—
Only me.
Before I know it, I’m right in front of her, shoving the stranger away while pulling Sandra into my arms.
“The fuck is your problem, man?” the guy hisses at me, slurring his words. He balls up his fists like he wants to throw down, but I’m not even the slightest bit concerned. Buddy looks like he weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet, and I, for one, have likely seen more than his fair share of fights. He wouldn’t stand a chance against me, and after a second of staring him down, he slinks off in shame.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” I grumble against her ear so she can hear me over the music.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she snaps back, her blue eyes fierce and sharper than razors. “You must really have a death wish, trespassing like this.”
“And it seemsyouhaven’t learned your lesson, princess.”
“What lesson?”
“That you shouldn’t be without your guards.”
“Who says I’m without my guards?” she bites back, the corners of her lips tugging up into a smile.
For a brief second, I wonder if I’ve accidentally walked into a trap. How else could she be so reckless if not for her guards lying in wait to jump me? But the more I take in our surroundings, the more I begin to question whether she’s telling the truth. Nobody around us stands out in particular, nobody has their eyes on us. It’s just her and me, lost in the sea of people.
Invisible, except to each other.
“Tell me what you’re doing here,” she demands, gripping the lapels of my suit jacket.
“None of your business.”
“It’sabsolutelymy business. You’re onmyturf.” Something hard nudges my stomach. When I look down, I see the glint of a knife pressed to my belly.
My lip curls up into a sneer. “You and your fucking knives.”
Sandra applies the slightest bit of pressure. “Tell me, Nicolaevich. Or I’ll gut you where you stand.”
“Fuckingdoit,” I challenge, my words low and downright hateful. I snatch her by the wrist and hold the knife in place. She struggles, but I don’t let go. “Come on, Antonova. Don’t be a fucking coward.”
There’s a brief flash in her eyes, and that’s how I know. For all her talk, for all her attitude… I don’t think Sandra’s ever taken a life before. She’s all bark and no bite—and every breath I continue to take is proof.
“Let go,” she mutters.
“Youlet go.”
Neither of us make a move. We’re caught in each other’s gaze, in the heat of one another’s body. I like the way she smells, like the softness of her skin against me. I don’t know why she hasn’t screamed for help yet. If her guards really are hiding somewhere, all it would take is a single word out of her mouth for them to riddle me full of bullets.
“God, I fucking hate you,” she grumbles.
I dip down, my lips grazing her ear. “Do you?”
