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His brothers are all just as good looking as him, none of them give off the same air of unhinged like Killian does.
They are one of the major real estate developers in Vegas. I googled them between classes.
Which means, as long as I’m in this city, I’m not likely to escape Killian’s attention. Not until he doesn’t want to give it to me anymore. And unlike the Russian I hoped to avoid, Killian is proving difficult to shake.
The even more mind-blowing detail, is that when I saw him in the coffee shop, I didn’t feelonlyannoyance or revulsion.
I was also…excited. In my defense, no one, besides me, myself, and I, has ever given me an orgasm before.
I’ve been afraid to let any guy close enough to even try. The fact that it turned out pleasantly is shocking.
But I know it’s a terrible idea to allow Killian any closer. He is not the kind of crazy a girl can control. And then another part argues, there was a little control in my bedroom. He made me a promise and he kept his word.
I banish these thoughts, they’re dangerous. Which is why I’m all business when I head over to his table. “Good evening. What can I get you?”
“Whisky. One an hour,” he murmurs, his eyes sliding down my black oxford and painted-on pants. “I like the dress better.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” I try for snark, but part of me is pleased. I like dressing in bold colors. Clothes are part of how I express myself. They are the palette that I share with the world, unlike my paintings, which are way too personal.
I’m an art history major because, while I love being a painter, I know I’m not ever going to make a living off it. That’s for people who are already rich. If I could become a curator or a gallery manager, I’d be ecstatic.
I leave Killian’s table and start for the bar when Callie approaches, giving me a sour look. “The Russians requested you.”
I look over to the table and try not to sigh as Alexander beckons me toward him. Crap. “Sorry,” I murmur to Callie. “I’m as unhappy about it as you are.”
“You can’t take all the good tippers,” she huffs, not asking why I might not be happy.
Sliding my tray under my arm, I approach the table. “Good evening, gentlemen, how may I help you?”
The one who always plays the piano gives me a long look, his eyes sliding down my uniform. “I’ve never introduced myself, I’m Dimitri Ivanov.”
I let out a slow breath, mentally cursing. “Pleasure.”
“Chloe, right?” Dimitri asks, his gaze running up and down me again.
“That’s right.”
“Alexander claims that you are the most professional of the staff.” He smiles and I catch a gold-capped tooth among his molars.
“That’s very kind,” I reply, not liking where this is going.
Dimitri gives a light chuckle as though I’ve said something funny. “I wasn’t being kind. I’ve a meeting next week that I’m hosting in the back room. It requires discretion—” But he stops as three men appear in the door.
I recognize them instantly. Killian’s brothers.
The entire table of Russians stops looking at me and stares at them. Triston’s eyes meet mine, and then flick to the table I’m standing in front of. He looks at me for the briefest second, and then, his gaze shifts to Dimitri as he begins to walk over.
The air crackles.
“What can I get you gentlemen to drink?” I ask the Russians, sinking into my job to relieve the tension.
“Your best vodka and seven glasses,” Dimitri replies, his eyes on Triston.
“Of course.” I’m off, hustling to the bar. Did Triston come here to see them? To check up on his brother? To follow up with me?
Either way, I quickly load up the drinks, returning to the table, all the while feeling Killian watch all this play out from his hiding spot in the shadows. Why hasn’t he joined his brothers?
Setting the bottle on the table, I distribute the glasses and then fill each. I do the task as quickly as I dare without spilling.