Page 57 of Sadistic

A woman in an evening gown stumbles past on the arm of a man in a rumpled tuxedo, both laughing at some private joke.

Normal people living normal lives, unaware that an heir to the Bratva is walking past with his arranged bride.

I guide her toward the bar, aware of every point of contact between us.

Her skin is warm through the thin fabric of her shirt, and I can feel the slight tremor in her muscles—nervousness or anticipation, I’m not sure.

The bar is dimly lit, all dark wood and leather, designed for secrets and deals that can't happen in daylight.

The bartender recognizes me—of course he does.

I've been here enough times for business meetings that end in someone owing me favors or their life.

But tonight isn't about business.

"Your usual, Mr. Volkolv?"

"Yes. And for the lady..."

"Whiskey," Revna says, surprising me. "Neat."

I raise an eyebrow as we slide into a corner booth—my preferred spot with clear sightlines to all exits.

Something you’re trained when you’re this important.

"Were you expecting wine?" she asks, reading my expression. "Something more feminine?"

"I wasn't expecting anything. You're consistently unpredictable."

"Says the man who's been watching me for five years." But there's no venom in it tonight, just curiosity.

I think the alcohol has helped open her up a bit. "Why surveillance? Why not just... talk to me?"

The question I've been dreading and hoping for at the same time.

Our drinks arrive, giving me a moment to consider my answer.

The whiskey is good—aged eighteen years, smooth enough to sip but with enough burn to remind you it's there.

"I didn't know how," I admit, the alcohol burning away. "When I first saw you. You weren’t even a legal adult, telling yourfather to fuck off in front of a room full of killers. I'd never seen anything like it."

"So you decided to stalk me?"

"I decided to wait. But waiting turned into watching. Watching turned into..." I gesture vaguely at the space between us. "This."

"This being an arranged marriage you orchestrated?"

"This being the only way I knew to keep you." I take another drink, letting the whiskey courage wash through me. "And for the record, I didn’t orchestrate this marriage. That was something our fathers did. I’ll be brutally honest with you, I'm not good at normal, Revna. I was raised to take what I want, eliminate obstacles, control every outcome I could. No one ever taught me how to just... ask a girl out."

She laughs—actually laughs—and the sound hits me hard.

It's not the polite laugh she gave my mother earlier, or the nervous one from the parking lot.

This is real, unguarded, beautiful.

"You bought someone a horse."

"Christ, Rhiannon really went all in with the embarrassing stories." I run a hand through my hair, a gesture that makes me feel young as hell. "I was sixteen. She mentioned liking horses once, in passing. I thought?—"