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Chapter 5
Michelle
I knew that my father would have been firmly against going for drinks—which made it all the more appealing.
Even though he’d certainly go himself if invited, but he’d chastise me for being a single woman and mixing business with pleasure.
‘It sends the wrong message,’ he’d remind me.
But I refused to care.
If my father has things his way, late nights drinking with my girlfriends would soon be a thing of the past.
I think that’s partially why I didn’t behave as cautiously. Something about this trip felt final, as if one chapter was closing and another, unknown chapter, awaited me on the other side.
So tonight, I indulged my freedom and independence. I opted for a more low-key look. We were in a different country, and my father was far away.
I slid on my favorite pair skin-tight jeans, partnered it with a low-cut pink blouse that enhanced my cleavage, and some black stilettos. Elaina chose black leather leggings, a cobalt blue halter-top, and black ballet flats.
The Stepanov brothers would probably take us to an expensive, upscale bar, but our outfits were sexy enough to be either casual or sophisticated.
A part of me always rebelled against my father whenever we were apart, but there was more to my outfit choice that night. If Hugo was half as good-looking as his brother Nico, then I wanted to see the looks on their faces when I walked in wearing such tight-fitting clothing. The ability to bring a man to his knees was empowering. Plus, I was used to getting what I wanted in both my work and personal life.
Elaina stoodin front of the full-length mirror in my hotel room, turning around a few times to see how she looked. “Why did I ever stop doing crunches?”
I watched as she sucked in her gut a little bit. She may not have been able to bounce quarters off of it as she could back in college, but it was still pretty flat.
“At least you have the ass to pull off those pants,” I said while looking at my backside in the mirror.
Elaina rolled her eyes and adjusted my shirt from behind, then helped me put my blonde hair up in a messy bun. “You know damn well that you’re one of the hottest women in New York City, and I’m sure that’ll be the same case tonight at the club.”
“I don’t know about that,” I replied, “but thank you. How about we do a pre-game shot? You know, like we used to back in our partying days?”
Elaina's’ eyes lit up as she grabbed a bottle of vodka from the wet bar and two shot glasses. It felt good to be free of my father’s controlling ways. If I had been in the United States at that moment, I knew he’d have someone following me as I went to a club.
He loved to know my whereabouts at all times.
“Here's to hot Russian men,” Elaina yelled as we clinked our shot glasses together.
We got into the stretch limousine the Stepanov brothers had sent over, then proceeded to take yet another shot of vodka together. By the time the driver got back to his seat, Elaina and I were feeling pretty damn good. Russian vodka was delicious.
“What bar are we going to, sir?” The driver adjusted his rearview mirror to meet my eyes. Maybe it was all of the alcohol, but I suddenly found him incredibly sexy.
“It’s called the Vodka Grove, Ms. Harrington. The Stepanov brothers go there quite often, and I’m sure you’ll have a good time. It’s one of the most popular bars here in Russia.”
I looked at Elaina and raised my eyebrows.
“It sounds classy,” Elaina replied, sounding impressed at the name alone. The driver didn’t respond, though, and when we pulled up to the club, I realized why.
The Vodka Grove was so loud that you could hear the music blasting onto the street. Dozens of twenty-somethings stood outside of it, waiting for one of the bouncers to let them inside. None of them wore classy clothes. While it didn’t appear dirty or greasy, like some of the bars back home in New York City, it wasn’t a place you’d bring someone to with the hopes of getting their business.
“At least we didn’t wear those designer dresses you made us buy,” Elaina said as we got out of the limousine, eyeing some of the less-attractive guys who needed a shower.
I made my way to the front of the line, ignoring the dirty looks from people who had been waiting in line. “Michelle Harrington and Elaina Iverson,” I said, “here with the Stepanov brothers.”
His eyes lit up, then immediately pulled back the heavy steel door to let us inside. “Have fun, ladies, and welcome to the Vodka Grove.”
We walked inside, and it was utter chaos. Young adults were laughing, drinking, and saying things in Russian that I couldn’t understand. Most of them were so drunk they had to lean on their friends for support, continuing to drink as they slurred words into each other’s ears. A few of the men made eyes at us too, which meant that we were blending in as effortlessly as I would have liked.
