Page 16 of Beautiful Trauma

I scowled at him. “Don’t bring my lack of a personal life into this.”

“While your attire is what every other young coed will be wearing, it will be your beauty that gets you past the bouncer.”

With a resigned huff, I replied, “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

Dima bobbed his head. “Ready to meet your assailant?”

“Words that have passed from brother to sister through the ages,” I sarcastically replied.

He gave a frustrated grunt while Aleks chuckled. “Anton?” Dima called.

Anton Lensky was the son of one of my father’s most trusted soldiers. We’d played together as kids. When he stepped from behind the curtain, I cocked my brows in surprise. Like me, his appearance had been altered, but his was less extreme than mine.

He gave me an apologetic look. “I’m very sorry about this, Mila.”

“So am I. Or I suppose I should say that I’m sorry you got roped into this.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad to be of service.”

Cocking my head at him, I countered, “By playing my obsessive ex who gets his ass kicked by Kellan Kavanaugh?”

Narrowing his eyes, Anton replied, “It’s my duty to follow my pahkhan’s orders.”

I fought to keep my lip from curling in disgust at Anton’s overt allegiance to my father. Instead, I forced myself to smile at him. “I’m sure he appreciates it.”

A pleased expression came over his face. “You have my word that no harm will come to you on this mission.”

“Aren’t you supposed to manhandle me?” I countered.

Dima grunted. “Give it a rest, Mila.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I argued, “Is it not part of the plan that he grabs me to get Kellan’s attention?”

Dima exchanged a glance with Anton. “We’ve tweaked that part of the plan.”

My jaw unhinged. “Excuse me?”

“To truly solidify his protectiveness, we think it’s better if Kellan has your attention before Anton enters the picture.”

I swept my hands to my hips. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

“Mila–”

“Despite not being a part of Bratva, I know enough that you don’t make a last minute change to a well rehearsed plan.”

“It’s only a tweak,” Anton argued.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “And what exactly is this alleged tweak?”

Clearing his throat, Dima replied, “We want you to approach Kellan and ask him to dance. That way it lends a little more credence to Anton’s possessive reaction.”

After shooting Dima a death glare, I argued, “That’s more than a little tweak. That involves a hell of a lot more than just me pretending to be assaulted.”

Quirking his brows, Dima challenged, “How hard can it possibly be to ask the bastard to dance?”

“It’s a whole different persona than being a damsel in distress. I have to be flirty and…”

I swallowed the wordconfident. The last thing I needed was for my brothers and Anton to have a view into my self-esteem issues. Any therapist would have a Freudian field day with how my “daddy issues” bled into my relationships with men.