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“Then what?”
I cringe and jerk towards Dmitri. “Then I fell in love and I realized that fairytales exist only in books and movies.”
“I sense a love story gone wrong,” he murmurs.
I peek at him, wondering if I’m misreading the level of interest in his voice. Of course you are, chimes that prissy voice in my head again. You want him to care. It’s the same mistake as with William. He’s a rich, powerful, older man and you think he’ll fall for you eventually if you just fall for him first. You never learn, do you?
“Shut up,” I mumble to it.
Dmitri arches a brow. “Pardon?”
“Nothing.” My cheeks heat up. “It’s not really a love story if you delude yourself into thinking you’re in love. And in my case, it didn’t turn out so well.”
I’d be lying if I said I’m sharing all this with no ulterior motive. But maybe, if I tell him a little about my past, he might open up to me about his?
I have no idea why I even care to know. This is none of my business. In fact, knowing will only make things more complicated going forward. The less involved I am in Dmitri Egorov’s messy personal life, the better. And yet, when he asks, “What happened…?”
I can’t help but answer.
“He… he turned out to be a different person than I thought he was.” I squeeze the armrest of the seat as that familiar avalanche of emotion surges through me like lava flow. It recedes a moment later—not all the way gone, but not quite so overwhelming. “But everyone has their own heartbreaks. I’m sure you’ve had your fair share.”
He doesn’t reply to that. There’s not even a grunt of acknowledgement.
The silence is killing me, so I ask, “Do you have any other siblings apart from Aleksandr?”
“No.”
He turns the corner but the street is jam-packed. I can see the spires of the club from here. Beneath it is an ocean of people, glistening with piercings and glitter and leather and who even knows what else.
While Dmitri hands the keys to the valet, I start moving towards the end of the line. It’s about a mile long. I already regret not coming earlier.
“Wren.”
I swing around. He didn’t even raise his voice, but I heard it slice through the cacophony of the crowd like nothing.
When I find him, Dmitri is standing next to the bouncer, glaring impatiently at me. “Where are you going? The entrance is right here.”
I glance at the people in line. I’m already getting a few dirty looks, a few cleared throats as people prepare to declare me a line cutter and burn me at the stake like a witch. “Um…”
“Get over here.”
Then he shakes the bouncer’s hand, gives him a crisp nod, and gestures for me to walk in ahead of him. Sound swallows us up as we enter the club and I’m forced to lean in close to talk to him. He smells of whiskey and spice. And pheromones. A potentially lethal dose of pheromones.
“How did you get us in so fast?”
He blinks in bewilderment, like the question itself doesn’t make any sense. “My name carries weight in this town. Take the stairs.”
“The stairs?” I glance to my left in confusion. “The dance floor is down here. I told Syrah I’d meet her at the?—”
“You won’t be able to see her if you stay down here. You can sit in my box until she arrives.’
I glance up at the rows of suites that look down over the dancefloor and the stage. “You have a VIP box?”
“You’re surprised?”
“No,” I say to myself with a sigh. “At this point, nothing surprises me anymore.”
As we navigate through the packed space, I can’t help but notice the looks that Dmitri gets. He is the kind of good-looking you just can’t ignore. Every woman’s gaze lingers on him, and most of them turn back for a second helping.
