Page 6

Amelia

“Don’t test me,” I mutter to myself as I throw my coat over the back of a dark brown leather armchair.

Who the hell does this man think he is? Lucas was bossy, but he had every right to be. He was my brother. He’d been in charge of me since my father passed away.

Lucas was a pain in my ass sometimes with his overprotectiveness, but this man takes it to the next level. Telling me I have to stay in his office like some sweet obedient puppy while he goes off and does mafia stuff?

I stop short, standing at the window overlooking the city. We’re only on the second floor so the view isn’t spectacular, but I can feel the energy through the glass. This is New York City. I can do and be anything I want.

And right now, I want to go downstairs and get a drink.

Leaving my coat behind, I throw my cross-body purse over my head and yank the door open. After a quick peek down the hall to be sure no one is coming, I hurry in the other direction to the stairs I used yesterday.

The heavy thump of the music vibrates the floor as I get closer to the club. Nightclubs have never been my thing. In college, I’d be the first to end the night while the rest of my roommates stayed out until dawn.

The same man that chased me up the stairs yesterday stands by the door leading into the club. For a second, I think he blanches. Did Dmitri get mad at him for letting me get past him?

“Hi again.” I offer a wide grin.

“Does Dmitri know you’re down here?” He glances up the stairs.

I laugh. “Would I be down here if he didn’t?” Hopefully the background noise of the music seeping through the door drowns out the little crack in my voice. Lying has never suited me.

He looks conflicted.

“He had to meet with some people. You can go up there and check, but it looked urgent.” There, let him decide if it’s worth a chewing out for questioning his boss.

After another second of thought, he grasps the door handle. “All right, but I’m letting the security team know you’re in there.”

I lift a shoulder. “Of course.”

Multicolored lights and music assault me as soon as I enter the club. There’s a DJ stand at the front of the room, lifted up on a stage with more lights aimed down at the crowd, swirling over the dancing figures.

It takes a minute for my senses to get accustomed to the bombardment, and I make my way to the nearest bar. As soon as I reach it, a bartender appears as if by magic in front of me. He jerks his thumb at the men standing in front of me to get them out of the way.

“What are you drinking tonight, Mrs. Dragunov?” He leans over the bar and is loud enough that I can hear that he’s just called me Mrs.

I grit my teeth. The man keeps calling me his wife and I haven’t even agreed to marry him.

The arrogance is astounding.

“Can you make an Amaretto sour?” I’m not much of a drinker, but I like the sweetness of that drink.

He makes a face like it’s one of the odder requests he’s gotten tonight.

“I’ll get it done. One sec.” He disappears, looking at the bottom shelves for something.

“Hey, I know you.” A warm hand rests on my arm.

Sliding my arm from beneath his hand, I turn toward the man. I’ve never seen him before in my life. He has sandy blond hair with swampy green eyes. He’s grinning down at me, showing off the deep dimple that pops up on the left side of his cheek.

“I’m sorry?” I shout up at him. He’s good looking in the pretty sort of way. Maybe if he was older, or had a beard like Dmitri, he would emanate the same masculine energy Dmitri does.

Fuck.

I shake my head. Where the hell did those thoughts come from? I’m not going to compare men to Dmitri. No.

No. Absolutely not.

“Yeah. I think we went to school together.” Pretty boy slides a little closer to me.

“NYU?” I play along with him. His smile gets even wider, like a boy who’s just been let into the candy store after hours.

“Yeah!”

“Sorry. I went to Hunter College.”

His smile drops, but he recovers quickly. “Oh, my sister went there. Maybe I saw you at one of the parties.”

I shake my head. At least he’s quick on his feet.

“I doubt it.”

“Well, anyway. I’m Brad.” He leans his elbow on the bar and gives what I’m sure he thinks is his best smoldering look.

“Nice to meet you, but I’m not really looking for company.”

“Here you go!” The bartender reappears, sliding an Amaretto sour on a small napkin my way. “Everything good here?” He eyes Brad.

I turn toward my drink. “Everything’s fine. Thanks.” I pick up my drink and take a sip through the tiny bar straw. It’s perfect.

“Hey, maybe we got off on the wrong foot.” Brad moves even closer to me.

I notice now that he’s unbuttoned the top three buttons, trying to show off his chest, but other than a small patch of hair, there’s not much to see. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows and there’s a thick gold necklace dangling around his neck.

I’m not really sure which cliché he was going for when he got dressed tonight.

“No. We’re good.” I try to brush him off as I turn to find a corner to enjoy my drink in, but he’s not very good at taking signals.

“What’s your name, at least give me that,” he shouts into my ear from behind me. It’s loud enough to hurt, so I cover my ear and spin around to face him. My drink spills over a little, and droplets of it land on his silver button-down.

He spreads his arms out, like I’ve just struck him instead of spilled a few drops of orange juice on him. “What the fuck, man?”

Pretty boy pulls at his shirt, trying to rub away the little dark spot where some of the juice landed. When it doesn’t go away, because, well, because you can’t wipe off liquid, his cheesy smile fades. His jaw clenches and that little dimple he had before disappears.

“I’m sorry. You yelled in my ear. It startled me.” I try to take a step back, but he grabs hold of my arm.

“Where are you going? We’re just getting started.”

The music changes over and the crowd erupts with more energy. Someone bumps into him from behind and he uses the opportunity to lean into me. My drink hits his chest and more spills.

“Fuck!” he yells, again in my ear.

I try to pull away from him. “I’ll get you some napkins.” Not that it will do any good.

“No. You stay here.” He grabs me again. “You ruined my shirt, the least you can do is dance with me.”

Brad takes the glass from me and downs what’s left of the drink.

“Let’s go.” He jerks his head toward the exit near the back of the club.

“No.” I spin, ready to rush back to the bar, but he snags my wrist and yanks me back to him.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Spit hits my cheek as he yells in my ear again. His chest is pressed to my back, and he wraps his arm around my waist.

I pull my arm forward, aiming my elbow for his stomach, but in the next breath I’m free of his grasp. Stumbling forward, I catch myself before I fall to the floor.

Turning around, I find Dmitri holding pretty boy by his throat. Two men stand behind Brad and the crowd has opened up around us, giving Dmitri more room.

“I’m sorry, man,” Brad squeezes out.

Dmitri grabs hold of Brad’s right hand, the one that’s been grabbing me for the past ten minutes.

“You will be. I promise.” Dmitri wraps his own hand around Brad’s fist and squeezes until Brad screams. Tears run down his cheeks and he’s gasping for breath.

Dmitri tosses Brad at his two security guys. “Take him.”

“Dmitri.” I pull at his arm to get his attention. “Don’t. You can’t kill him,” I shout over the music at him.

Heated, angry eyes meet mine when he looks down at me. His gaze moves to where my hand is clenching his suit jacket. The dark energy seeps through my fingers and I release him.

The security guards drag Brad away, his limp and broken hand cradled in his other hand.

Dmitri leans into me, his warm breath brushing over my cheek as he presses his mouth to my ear.

“This is the second time tonight I’ve had to deal with a man who’s had his hands on you because you did not stay where I told you to.” Even with the music thumping, the crowd screaming around us, I hear every word. And he’s not even yelling.

“I just wanted a drink.” It’s such a flimsy thing to say given how fiercely he’s staring at me.

“It’s time you learned what happens to naughty girls who don’t know how to listen.”

My insides heat. I must have heard him wrong. Maybe the music is getting in the way more than I think. Without another word, he picks up my hand, laces his fingers through mine, and tugs me along with him through the crowd.

It’s as if everyone knows who he is and parts for him as he drags me through the dancers like some errant little girl who’s been caught out after curfew. A few pitying glances are thrown my way by passing waitresses.

Do they know what’s happening?

Because I sure as hell don’t.

Boris frowns when we pass him at the exit. I try to twist around to stay something to him, but Dmitri just tugs me harder when I slow us down.

As though his mere presence controls the elevator, the doors slide open as we approach and he pulls me inside.

“Dmitri.”

“Quiet now, Amelia.” He squeezes my hand a little. “No talking yet.”

He continues to stare at the elevator doors as we are lifted up to the next floor. I’m not really sure what to make of his sudden silence.

Anger still radiates from him, so I know it’s not because he’s come to his senses that I’m a full-grown woman who can go down to the bar if she wants.

I was perfectly safe. Even if he hadn’t shown up, I’m sure one of his security guards would have caught up to me and handled Brad. If he’d been a few minutes later, I could have handled Brad myself.

Dmitri’s fingers rub against mine. It has an oddly calming effect. Not ten minutes ago, this hand broke bones, but now it’s gentle—even if a bit firm.

I take a chance and look up at him. His jaw is still tense, his eyes firmly set in front of him. When he swallows, there’s a ripple in his throat. The man has the thickest neck I’ve ever seen, and there’s a black tattoo sneaking up from his shirt collar.

When the elevator dings our arrival, he leads me into the hall. There’s another man standing in front of his office looking like he wants to talk to Dmitri.

“Not now.” He waves the man away and walks us into the office, kicking the door shut behind us.

“If you need to talk to him…” My words fade with a simple squeeze of his hand. No talking, right.

Dmitri walks me to the far end of the office and positions me ahead of him, shoving me lightly into the corner.

As soon as he lets my hand go, I turn, but he’s right there and I walk straight into his chest. His hands grasp my shoulders, and he simply turns me back around.

“You stand here.” He keeps a hand on my shoulder like an anchor.

I’m standing in the corner.

He’s put me in the corner like some naughty little girl.

Heat rushes up my back. Isn’t that what he called me downstairs?

“Dmitri. What are you doing?” I try to laugh it off, like this is just some silly game he’s playing with me.

“Starting your punishment.”