Chapter 2
Anya
The night is just getting started, and music thrums throughout the busy club. As I sit at my table, surrounded by my friends, I stare at the vibrant dancefloor and watch the revelers enjoying the night. As far as night clubs go, I think that the Haven is pretty nice. My father acquired it some years ago as yet another way for him to launder his money and avoid paying taxes. It plays the same upbeat tempo music as any. The sort of dark, seedy place that encourages a person to drink far too much and grind on whatever body is closest to them.
Presently, I’m taking advantage of being the owner”s daughter, shamelessly enjoying bottle service in the roped off, elevated VIP section of the club. Sipping on the glass of champagne in my hands, I want to make it last. I’m not getting buzzed tonight. Unlike my friends, I want to remember my evening tomorrow morning. I just want to get intoxicated enough to dance the rest of the night away without having to deal with the burn in my legs. That”s why I skip thehigh heels on nights like this; while my friends are barefoot and staggering, I”ll be comfortable in my flats. Another perk I enjoy is ignoring the dress code.
Out of all the clubs and businesses that my father owns, I like Haven the best. Perhaps it’s the younger crowd, or the open floor plan, or the fact that it’s located right on the Strip. Gambling doesn’t appeal to me, but there is never a shortage of washed out, nearly broke finance guys who lost too much money and need to wash away their sorrows. My friends always say those are the best men, because they want to prove to their women that they are still worth something, continuing to spend their money recklessly. And my friends tend to have very, very expensive tastes.
We’re an eclectic group, but it works somehow. I certainly stick out when compared to the others. Marina and Allison down on the dance floor, surrounded by men all competing for their attention, will go home tonight with whoever has the most money; while I sit here and admire the whole thing from afar. We all met in college and should have drifted apart, but perhaps that”s part of the magic. You tend to keep yourfriends once you find them.
People come to Las Vegas to make their dreams come true, and I enjoy living here. I don’t know how long I’ll stay though. I”m not the type of girl to settle down. I”ve never liked being confined to one location, and travel excites me. But in the time I”ve spent here, I can”t deny that I feel at home. It”s easy to get lost in this city”s crowds, which suits me more than anyone realizes. It”s impossible to run out of things to see or do, and even if you tried, it”s impossible to be bored, especially if you have high-energy friends like mine. Not that they are talking to me right now. They haven’t said much to me this evening at all as they are submerged in their conversations. Then again, I prefer to scan the crowds and enjoy the moment.
“Hey,” my friend, Rick, says. “We’re out of champagne.” He turns the bottle upside down and shakes out a few droplets while pouting at me.
Rising to my feet, I shrug. Sometimes comments like that make me think they are only my friends because my father owns the most popular night club on the strip.
“I’ll go down to the bar and order another bottle,” I tell him, raising my voice to be heard over the music as it vibrates through my body. It’s a good excuse to get up and take a walk. I’m not one for sitting down for long. I feel too energized for that.
Without waiting for an answer from Rick, I descend the steps that lead down to the main floor and bob my head at the bouncer. He lifts the red velvet rope that cordons off the VIP section and I breeze past him, heading toward the bar.
Bodies throb and writhe next to me, almost knocking me off of my feet as I push past them. Sometimes, it feels good to be anonymous among a crowd of strangers. I wonder what sort of impressions the strangers must have of me. I people watch enough to come up with elaborate backstories for just about everybody that I pass easily, and I’ve always wondered if they do the same for me. Do they think I’m a tourist? Are they jealous? Do they think that Rick is some undercover cop and we’re here on a sting operation?
I smile to myself at the insane notion. As if my father would ever allow cops into one of his clubs.
As I continue to weave my way through the crowd, I pass by two young women. A pale redheaded girl is almost at the point of tears as she stares up at a curvaceous blonde. Frowning, I study the pair, I can tell something is going on; especially when the blonde glares scathingly at the her, stealing the drink from her hand.
“Do you really think that dress makes you look good?” the blonde woman shrieks nastily, scowling at the redhead’s gray ensemble. Her hands drift over her own bubblegum-pink gown.
I don’t like to pass judgment on people I don’t know, but if I were making up a history for her, it would be a nasty one.
“God, you didn’t dress well when we were in high school, and you still have no fashion sense. You make me want to barf.”
The blonde laughs and drinks from the glass in her hand, then makes a face as if the drink that she’s stolen isn’t at all to her taste. “This is disgusting, here, have it back,” she says before upending the drink all down the redhead’s front, staining her pretty dress.
My chest tightens as I watch the redhead duck her head, trying to hide the moisture on her cheeks. I feel a pang of sympathy. Even though I”m not sure what”s going on, I can smell a bully. I can”t let that go. Not here, not in my father”s club. I wouldn”t let that go no matter where we were. I wasn”t raised to be the type of person who walks away from something like that. I can”t stand seeing someone be a victim. I can”t count how many times my friends have told me not to interfere, but I just can”t stop myself.
Stepping up to the pair, I pull my tailored blazer from my shoulders, leaving me in my black crop top. I’m small, and the redhead was blessed with curves that I don’t have, but it should fit her well enough to cover the mess from the drink. My eyes dart from one to the other as I give her my jacket to cover up.
“Leave her alone,” I say, staring fiercely at the blonde-haired woman.
Instantly, she snaps her head to face me. If looks could kill, I’d be a corpse. She snorts at me, her eyes narrowing. “This isn’t your business, bitch,” she retorts. “So, why don’t you scuttle away, back to wherever you came from?”
I look at her incredulously, my eyebrow lifting. Refusing to be cowed by her, I shake my head. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” I shoot back. “This is my dad’s club, so I have a little authority here. Now, this is how it’s going to go. You’re going to leave this girl alone or I’m going to call security, and they’ll make you leave. I promise you; it won’t be pretty.”
I can tell this chick wants to fight, but instead, she huffs and glances at her victim. “You’re pathetic,” she sneers at the both of us. “You are not worth my time anyway.”
I scoff, mocking her. “Well as I don’t think your time, or you for that matter, are worth that much to begin with—I’m not insulted.” I lift my shoulder into an arrogant shrug.
“She’s worth a lot more than you ever will be,” I tell the blondie with a scowl. “Does it make you feel superior when you act like that? Well, you’re not. You’re insecure and pathetic and you have to tear other girls down to build yourself up. Get a grip.”
“Whatever,” she snaps, rolling her eyes as she shimmies away, her hips swaying.
Once she’s gone, I turn to the young redheaded woman and give her a smile of solidarity. “Are you alright?” I ask in concern.
She nods. “Yeah,” she whispers, just loud enough for me to hear her over the pounding music. “I knew her back in high school and she made my life hell for four years. I didn’t expect to run into her here,” she tells me, swiping a hand across her face.
“I always say that high school never ends. When they’re a bitch in high school, they’re a bitch out of it.”
She gives me a small grin, glad I brought a smile to her face; it’s far better than tears.
“Thanks for that,” she tells me, awe in her voice. “And this too,” she nods down to the jacket. “You probably just saved my evening. You were amazing. I wish I could handle myself like that.”
With a shrug, I feel a blush heat my cheeks. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad that I could help.” I clasp her hand and squeeze it gently. “Go enjoy your night. Actually, you see Ernie behind the bar? Tell him Anya sent you for a free pick me up drink.” I wink at her and she smiles sweetly at me before she dissolves into the crowd.
I sigh, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my skinny jeans. I wonder how people can act the way that bully did. I guess I”ll never understand how someone can feel superior by tearing down another person. I”ve spent my entire life in a bubble of security, and I”ve never felt the need to make myself feel superior.
I walk over to the bar and order another bottle of Dom Perignon. Luckily, the bartender recognizes me and I don”t have to pay. That”s one of the many benefits of being the boss”s daughter, though I try not to take advantage of it.
The bottle firmly clasped in my hand, I make my way back toward the VIP section. Then again, what’s the point in being Peter Griffith’s only daughter if I can’t indulge in the perks every once in a while?
Just as I’m on the right side of the rope, my thoughts are interrupted. I hear a commotion at the entrance of the club. Spinning around, I strain my neck to see what’s going on. The champagne that I was pouring for Rick overflows, covering my hand in a sticky mess.
A flurry of chaos pours in through the door, sparking concern in the depths of my chest. There”s clearly trouble, and it”s not what I”m looking for. Dealing with angry drunks is, of course, an occupational hazard, but all I wanted was a quiet, relaxing evening.
When I see a group of towering men intimidating the doormen, my heart begins to pound. They”re all dressed in black from head to toe, with matching earpieces. They resemble the security teams that surround my father at all times, albeit much larger. It”s not every day that you see men built like that. They all appear to be one solid flex away from bursting out of their expensive uniforms, with their hair shorn close to their heads and clean-shaven.
A few of the intruders push past the bouncers,shovingthem aside. Something is definitely wrong here, and these don”t seem to be your typical troublemakers. As they march forward, the men charge through the patrons, parting the crowd. Are they looking for someone? Is this the kind of thing I”m supposed to intervene in as the owner”s daughter?
My father hates it when I ask about his business dealings. He”d probably be furious if I did it now. Should I call him? I struggle against the rising tide of bile in my throat, feeling my stomach clench. No, whatever it is, I can handle it on my own.
I put the champagne down as Rick grabs my arm. “Anya, don’t, just let it be! Those guys are huge!”
I pull my arm from his grip and shake my head. “They don’t belong here.”
“And you’re going to do what exactly?” Rick moves for my arm again, just narrowly missing me a second time. “Those guys can bench press a tiny thing like you, Anya, you cannot go down there.
“Anya!” Rick hisses after me, but I’m already moving down the lounge steps and onto the main dance floor.
I force my spine straight, lifting my chin high, as I stride across the dance floor toward the intruders. Surprisingly, the people who had been dancing before move out of my way.
I don’t have a plan. I try to summon one with each step that I make toward the grouping, but my mind stays blank. Vastly outnumbered, they look like they can lift my entire body with only one hand.
As I draw nearer, one man steps forward—he”s different. He”s taller, his shoulders wider, and he exudes an intimidating presence that I find painfully attractive, which I immediately feel guilty about. I will not be intimidated by them any more than I was by that blonde bully.
I lift my chin and glare at him, placing my hands on my hips defiantly as if that will somehow make me larger. The man returns my glare, a tempest raging behind his dark eyes. He stares down at me and I quickly conceal any concern. I will not let him smell my fear. He approaches me like a panther stalking its prey, raking his hand through his short dark hair and shaking his head. He walks in a half-circle around me, as if assessing me. Despite the creeping fear up my spine, I refuse to turn to watch him.
He is without a doubt one of the most handsomemen I have ever seen. Tall and strongly built, radiatingan aura of power. He”s the type of man who appears in my rare late-night fantasies, in settings similar to this one. Only in our fantasies, we”d be somewhere much more private.
“Now, now, who do we have here?” he demands, raking his eyes over my body. I can hear an accent coating his words. Russian, maybe?
Steeling my gaze, I glare at him. “I could ask you the same question,” I retort, refusing to be intimidated.
“A woman with spunk,” he hisses, laughing. “Just how I don’t like them.” His gaze grows colder, and he exhales slowly. “My name is Nikolai Volkovich. You’ll want to remember that sweetheart, seen as I’m the new boss around here.”