7. Alice
7
ALICE
I can still taste him on my lips.
I’m leaning against the cool brick wall of the club, trying to pull myself back together. My pulse is racing, my legs feel like they’ve turned to jelly, and my heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear the music anymore. Dmitri kissed me like he was starving, like he couldn’t get enough, and now…he’s gone. He slipped away without a word, vanishing into the shadows like he was never there.
I press a hand to my lips, still swollen from the kiss, and feel the heat rise to my cheeks. What the hell was that? One second, he was dragging me off the dance floor, all fire and fury, and the next, he was…well, doing that . And now he’s disappeared, leaving me here, breathless and completely rattled.
“Alice!” Jenna’s voice cuts through the fog in my brain, and I look up to see her weaving through the crowd toward me. She’s grinning, her face flushed from dancing, but the smile falters when she gets a good look at me. “Where did you go? I was looking for you everywhere!”
I shake my head, trying to muster a casual smile. “I, uh, stepped away for a second.”
Jenna narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Stepped away? You look like you just got mauled by a wild animal. What happened?” Her gaze sweeps over me, and she gasps, reaching out to touch the red marks on my neck. “Are those—did someone give you hickeys? Oh my God, Alice!”
I swat her hand away, feeling my face burn hotter. “It’s nothing, Jenna. Just…forget it.”
Jenna’s grin is wicked now, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Forget it? You disappear for five minutes and come back looking like this , and you want me to forget it?” She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Who was it? Was he hot?”
I open my mouth to answer, but before I can, a shadow falls over us, and I look up to find Ivan standing there. He’s dressed in a crisp black shirt, the top button undone, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, tanned forearms. His expression is stone-cold, his ice-blue eyes flicking from me to Jenna and back again. There’s something unreadable in his gaze, something that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Who is that ?” Jenna whispers, her voice filled with awe as she watches him approach. “Please tell me that’s the guy you just made out with, because I will die .”
I force a tight smile, my heart pounding in my chest for an entirely different reason now. “Jenna, this is Ivan Morozov. My employer.”
Jenna’s eyes go wide, her jaw dropping as she looks between us. “Wait, that’s your boss?” she whispers, looking like she’s just seen a movie star in real life. “Holy shit, Alice.”
Ivan stops right in front of us, giving me a once-over, his expression unreadable. His eyes flick to the marks on my neck—Dmitri’s handiwork—and for a split second, I think I see something flicker in his gaze, something dark and possessive. But it’s gone before I can be sure.
“Good evening,” he says. His voice is calm and smooth, but there’s an edge to it, a tightness that makes my stomach twist. “Alice. And you are?”
Jenna practically swoons as she introduces herself, all but batting her eyelashes. “I’m Jenna. Alice’s friend. We were just, um, dancing.”
Ivan nods, his expression polite but distant, as if he’s barely listening. His focus is entirely on me. “And what brings you to the club tonight, Alice?”
I swallow hard, feeling a knot of anxiety coil in my stomach. He’s too calm, too controlled, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or just…calculating. “I was just out with Jenna,” I say.
Ivan raises a hand, silencing me with a look. His expression doesn’t waver, but his voice cuts through me, low and direct. “You shouldn’t be here.”
My stomach drops. This isn’t good. He’s too calm, and I know that kind of calm means trouble. I can’t tell if he’s angry, but I get the distinct feeling I’ve crossed a line I didn’t know existed. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m a liability, some reckless girl who sneaks into his clubs and drags his family name through the mud.
“I’m sorry,” I start, my voice rushing out, trying to explain myself, but he cuts me off with a raised hand.
“No need for apologies, Alice,” he says, his voice like ice. “But I think it’s best if you go home now. This isn’t the place for you.”
The way he says it—soft, controlled, but with a steely finality—makes it clear it’s not a suggestion. It’s an order.
I swallow hard, nodding. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Morozov. I didn’t think?—”
He raises an eyebrow, eyes boring into mine. “Go home, Alice.”
It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command, and I feel my face flush with a mix of anger and shame. I open my mouth to protest, to explain that I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but his eyes stay on mine, unyielding.
Beside me, Jenna’s mouth falls open again, eyes darting between Ivan and me, but I don’t dare look at her. I know what she must be thinking—that he’s my employer, that he’s my boss in the most unmovable, authoritarian sense of the word.
“Fine,” I manage, keeping my voice steady. I turn to Jenna, giving her a tight smile. “Let’s go.”
As we start to head for the exit, I can’t shake the feeling of eyes on me, a prickling sense that I’m being watched. I glance around, scanning the balconies and shadows, and then I see him—a man standing in the shadows of the upper level, eyes fixed on me. As soon as he notices me looking back, he turns, disappearing into the dark.
A chill runs down my spine, and for a moment, I forget my frustration with Ivan, my nerves on edge.
“What is it?” Ivan asks sharply, his eyes narrowing as he follows my line of sight.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, shaking my head, but my heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now. There was something about that man, something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Ivan studies me for a moment longer, his eyes searching mine. I can tell he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he steps back, his expression smoothing into that unreadable mask again. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Great, can’t wait for that.
The moment I step outside, the cool night air hits me like a slap, clearing some of the fog from my mind. I breathe in deeply, trying to ground myself, trying to make sense of what just happened.
I glance around, half expecting to see Ivan following me out, but it’s not him who steps into view. It’s Sergei.
He’s leaning against the sleek black limo parked by the curb, arms crossed, watching me with that same expression he always has—neutral, detached, like he’s observing everything while giving nothing away.
He straightens when he sees me, opening the back door with a small nod.
“Sergei,” I say, my voice coming out more shaky than I intended. “I?—”
He doesn’t say a word, just gestures for me to get in. I sigh, turning back to find Jenna, who’s just stumbling out of the club, her expression a mix of excitement and confusion.
“Jenna,” I call, waving her over. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
She hurries over, her eyes wide as she takes in the limo. “Holy shit, Alice,” she breathes, sliding in after me. “This is how you’re getting home? Are you sure you’re just a nanny?”
“Just get in,” I mutter, glancing up at Sergei, who’s watching us both like we’re two kids causing trouble. He closes the door once we’re inside, and a moment later, the engine purrs to life and we’re gliding away from the curb.
The interior of the limo is plush, all black leather and dim, ambient lights. It’s the kind of luxury you don’t see unless you’re very rich or very powerful. Jenna sinks back into the seat, her eyes wide as she looks around, taking it all in.
“Okay,” she says after a long, quiet moment. “This is insane. You realize this, right? That guy back there, Ivan—he looks like he could crush someone with his bare hands. And now we’re in this freaking limo, like we’re in some kind of mob movie.”
I glance up at the rearview mirror and catch Sergei’s eyes watching us. His expression gives nothing away, but I know he’s listening. He’s always listening.
“Jenna,” I say quietly, trying to give her a look that says drop it .
She doesn’t take the hint. “I’m serious, Alice,” she whispers, leaning closer. “They really might be gangsters, you know? Like actual mafia or something.”
I feel a jolt of unease, a cold twist in my stomach at the way she says it so casually, like it’s a joke. But I can’t laugh, not when I know she might be closer to the truth than either of us wants to admit.
I force a smile, shaking my head. “You watch too many movies.”
Jenna snorts, but she doesn’t push it further, not after she catches the look I give her. She glances up at the rearview mirror, meeting Sergei’s eyes, and she goes quiet, shrinking back into her seat until we drop her off at her apartment.
As the car glides through the quiet streets, I let the silence hang between Sergei and me, hoping it’ll stay that way. But after a few moments, I feel his gaze flicker toward me in the rearview mirror.
“You enjoyed yourself tonight, Miss Alice?” His voice is low, calm, with that ever-present edge of formality.
I hesitate, searching for the right response. “I…yes, I suppose so. I didn’t expect to run into anyone, though,” I say carefully, watching his expression in the mirror. There’s a flicker of something there, a brief glint of amusement.
“Quite the surprise,” he murmurs, and for a moment, I think he’s going to drop it, but then he adds, “You’re aware the club belongs to the family, aren’t you?”
I blink, caught off guard. “The family?”
He nods, a hint of a smile ghosting across his otherwise serious expression. “Yes, Nebula. It’s one of the family’s…business ventures. The Morozov brothers oversee it, among other things.”
The information settles in slowly, but it makes sense now—their familiarity with the place, the way Dmitri pulled me off the dance floor like he had every right. They weren’t just there by chance; they were there because they own the place.
“I didn’t realize,” I murmur, mostly to myself. “I thought it was just a coincidence.”
“There are no coincidences in our world,” Sergei replies, his voice low but firm. “You’re smart, Miss Parker. But be careful. The deeper you look, the more you’ll see, and not all of it is meant for your eyes.”
It’s the closest thing to a warning I’ve gotten from him, and I don’t know whether to feel grateful or terrified. “Oh,” I say quietly, not sure how else to respond. There’s so much I don’t know, so much I’m starting to realize I may never fully understand about this family. And the more I learn, the more I realize just how far out of my depth I might be.
We drive in silence the rest of the way, and by the time we pull into the long, winding drive leading up to the house, my nerves have wound into tight coils.
When the car stops, Sergei opens the door for me, offering a small nod as I step out. “Goodnight, Miss Parker,” he says, and there’s something almost soft in his tone, a small hint of kindness that surprises me.
“Goodnight, Sergei,” I reply, giving him a faint smile before turning toward the house. I walk quietly, my heels barely making a sound on the stone path as I approach the door. The lights inside are dim, and I slip inside, trying to be as quiet as possible. The last thing I want is to run into anyone right now. I need a moment to breathe, to think.
But as I step into the foyer, I feel it again—that prickle at the back of my neck, the unmistakable sensation of being watched. I freeze, my heart pounding, and I turn slowly, fists clenched at my sides, ready for whatever—or whoever—I might find.
“Easy there,” a deep, amused voice drawls from the shadows. “You’ve got quite the instincts, little mouse.”
A figure steps into the light, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It’s Alexei, uncle to the Morozov brothers. He’s wearing a dark suit, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back. I’ve seen him around the house before, always moving with the same easy, confident grace, but we’ve never actually spoken.
“Alexei,” I say, trying to catch my breath. “You startled me.”
He chuckles, taking a slow step closer, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Did I? Or were you just expecting someone else?”
I swallow hard, forcing a smile. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“Ah,” he says, tilting his head, studying me with that same sharp, appraising look I’m starting to recognize in all the Morozovs. “You’ve got good instincts, though. That’s rare, especially for someone like you.”
I bristle slightly at his words, but I can tell he doesn’t mean it as an insult. He’s genuinely amused, like he’s found something interesting he didn’t expect. “Someone like me?” I echo, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” he says lightly, his smile widening. “Someone who isn’t used to the shadows but finds herself in them anyway. Tell me, Alice, did you enjoy your little outing tonight?”
I glance away, heat rising in my cheeks. “It wasn’t exactly what I planned,” I admit.
“No,” he agrees, stepping closer until he’s just a few feet away. “But it rarely is, is it? You’re learning quickly, though. Perhaps quicker than my nephews would like.”
There’s something in his tone, a hint of warning mixed with curiosity, and it makes me uneasy. I force myself to meet his gaze, lifting my chin. “I’m just trying to do my job,” I say firmly.
He gives a soft laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh, I’m sure you are.”
He turns then, leaving me standing in the dimly lit foyer. I watch him disappear down the hallway, my heart still pounding, my mind racing.
I let out a shaky breath, forcing myself to move, to head upstairs to my room. I need to regroup, need to figure out what the hell happened tonight and what it means for me.
But one thing is clear—I’m in deeper than I thought, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to find my way back out.