Page 72 of Wicked Proposal

I’m opening my mouth to say exactly that when Mia cuts in with a laugh, too shrilly to be natural. “Not a problem! I, um—I’ll go see what the bar has to offer. Yulian, do you want?—”

Ieronim pipes right up. “A scotch would be nice, dear.”

She gives a tight nod and heads straight for the bar. Unease swirls in my gut—I don’t like leaving her out of my sight. She has no idea where she is tonight, what kind of club I brought her to.

Yeah, ‘cause you sure as fuck didn’t tell her.

I silence that nasty voice in my head before it gets wildly out of hand.

I’ve got two choices in front of me. One is to shred Ieronim limb from limb. The other is to go after Mia, because this room is full of vultures who will make Ieronim look like a harmless little guppy. If I leave her alone, a hand on the ass will be the nicest thing that happens to her all night.

You brought her here. You put her in danger again. It’syourfucking fault if something happens to her.

So, with a discontented growl in Ieronim’s direction that suffices as a goodbye, I turn and go after her. If only so I can protect the only thing in this whole cursed fucking room that’s actually innocent enough to deserve protection.

I see her. Beautiful, curvy, a vision in black lace. Fuck, she looks incredible as hair tumbles down the curve of her throat.

It strikes me, not for the first time, how lucky I am that she stumbled across my path. Or rather, that I parked along hers.

For her to be not just tough, not just desperate, not just feisty, but also gorgeous enough to make me pause in my tracks in a room full of dangerous men? To stop and stare while my enemies lurk in the shadows?

To drool?

To lust?

Toneed?

What the fuck did I do to deserve that?

I snap myself out of my reverie. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I do know that I have uses for Mia Winters tonight, and abandoning her to the jackals will only waste her potential.

I take one step in her direction, desperate to put my hand where Ieronim’s was, but?—

“Good evening, Mr. Lozhkin.”

Suddenly, it’s like flies flocking to shit. The greetings multiply, my name crooned over and over again.

I’m swarmed by business associates I cannot easily brush off, department heads of manufacturing companies and CFOs of office buildings sporting our cybersecurity technologies.

That’s what nights like these are for—making more lucrative deals.

And greasing the palms of dangerous men.

I’m one such man. Ieronim is another. I can spot at least half a dozen more: the Neri patriarch, the Alexopoulos heir, Yamazaki’s eldest daughter. Everyone here is rich, but not everyone got there through legitimate means.

It’s why we gather at the Goldenrod, the most exclusive club in New York. Not just because membership is a hundred grand per month, but because, by night, the usual golf-doctors-and-lawyers clientele is gone.

Instead, access becomes restricted to only a certain kind of elite.

Men like me.

And I don’t want Mia alone near men like me.

It takes a while before I manage to extricate myself from the conversation. When I do, I see everyone’s dolled up plus-ones lounging by the couches, colorful drinks in hand and light laughter floating in the air.

Ideally, that’s where I’d want Mia to be, too. If not by my side, then at least with her ilk. At least to be safe.

But when I finally lift my eyes back to the bar, I can’t find her.