Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
T he music blares around the room as we step into Amadeus, my eyes squinting at the low light that dances around the room. Haldon and Roman are beside me, our bodies slipping between the crowds occupying the dance floor.
“You know she’s going to be pissed we came here,” I remark as we bypass the bar.
Roman grunts unintelligibly—though I’m pretty sure it was along the lines of him not giving a shit—before heading towards a balcony that overlooks the dance floor. His hands grip the railings as he scours the room, his knuckles whitening.
Lani will be pissed as soon as she discovers our presence, something I really don’t want to be in the firing line for. She asked us not to gatecrash tonight, demanding to have a girls’ night and refusing to tell us where she was. I don’t think she was counting on Haven blasting their faces all over social media, so it was easy to locate them.
Amateurs.
She should know us better than to think we won’t keep an eye on her, and after everything the Russians have been up to, it’s important to remain vigilant. They’ve already fucked with Haldon’s deliveries, messed with my shipments, and, most recently, burned down Black Jack. While we have no proof it was the Federovs, almost all signs point to them. They’re trying to shut us down, cutting off our supplies so they can swoop in. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that shit out. The only problem is we can’t do anything about it. Our only source of information is the enigmatic mole that Roman’s uncle hunted down, and I don’t even know how that’s going.
While Roman won’t admit it, I know he’s pissed that the Federovs infiltrated another one of his businesses. Only this time, they took it out completely; burned to a fucking crisp. Our mole was supposed to give him the heads up before that shit happened, yet here we are.
Roman’s been in a mood all night, something I can ignore the majority of the time. But tonight has been especially excruciating, so I figured the best way to get him off our hands was to find my sister.
Sidling up to my best friend, I lean against the balcony. From here, we can see everything, and it doesn’t take me long to spot my sister and her friends. Lani sinks back into a booth laughing, surrounded by Gracie and Haven while her new blonde friend slumps down next to her. She must be from the academy, because my sister’s social circle is so small that I pretty much know everyone within it. I’ve never had to worry about who she hangs around with, but I’m always cautious— and by the looks of it, Roman is wary, too.
He points at Lani from where we are and she immediately scowls. He beckons her over, and I see her visibly shift in her seat, probably deciding whether to push her luck and stand her ground or do as she’s told. When Roman doesn’t budge, she pushes up from the table, fury lengthening her strides. She looks like she’s on a mission, and Roman is her target.
Thank fuck.
I decide to escape while I can—at least out of immediate danger—and slump into the closest couch. The music isn’t as loud from up here; it seems we’ve found the more relaxed part of the club, where it’s not heaving with sweaty bodies and lecherous bystanders.
Haldon is busy ordering us drinks from a waitress dressed like a goddess when the girls approach us, Lani cutting me a threatening look as she squares up to Roman.
“Who’s your friend?” Haldon asks his sister, eyes locked on the petite blonde that’s just joined us. He sends her a wink, which she blushes at, but then her eyes fall on me and I don’t miss the intrigue painted across her face.
“Savannah, this is my brother, Haldon.” Haven points to him, then to me. “Alvaro, and that’s Roman.” She turns to where he’s taking the vacant armchair beside the booth. He almost looks like a king in his throne with the way his hands wrap around the arms, his posture straight and powerful. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of my sister, which is no surprise, but the intensity is something else. I’m guessing she was the reason behind his earlier shitty mood, because now that she’s in close proximity, he’s a little more relaxed.
While Haven does her brief introductions, my sister stands between the group, looking awkward as fuck.
“I like him,” Savannah swoons.
Lani’s brows crease together. “Who?”
“Alvaro,” she whispers, though it’s not as quiet as she thinks.
I snort a laugh, just as a waitress returns with our drinks. I reach for mine, but my sister snatches it from me.
“He’s gay,” she remarks before sinking back the contents of my glass, slamming it back on the table between us when she’s finished. Her death stare is palpable. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under right now. We’ve never claimed to have twin-telepathy or ‘twintuition’, but I can tell just by the way she blinks that she’s secretly plotting my murder.
I get it. I know how much she wants to keep her personal life separate from her future, but I have a duty to keep her safe, regardless of her affiliation to us.
“Why are all the good-looking guys gay or off-limits?” Savannah whines, dropping into the seat beside me.
Her words catch my attention, and the way Lani’s eyes blow wide tells me she wasn’t expecting her friend to blurt something like that out.
“Who else is gay?” I ask, shifting in my seat. Color me intrigued.
Lani goes to speak, her mouth parting slightly, but before she can answer me she’s pulled into Roman’s lap.
“I think Presh can attest that I am certainly not gay,” he smirks.
“ Presh,” Savannah swoons. “Cute! So this is the guy?”
My sister nods slowly, but then she’s sucked into Roman’s presence, his arms wrapping around her possessively.
“Well,” Haldon speaks up, handing out fruity cocktails that look like something out of a science experiment gone wrong. His focus is solely on Savannah, who blushes when their fingers brush. He leans down, but his words are clear enough to hear. “Vee might bat for the other team, but I’m all yours, baby.”
I roll my eyes at that, turning my attention to the patrons swarming the club. The bouncy music that I’m not familiar with shifts to ‘Nightmare’ by Halsey, and I find myself searching the crowd, my eyes constantly gliding back and forth across the room. I don’t know whether it’s out of wariness or some kind of hopefulness that I immediately seek out Milo, but when I see him, my stomach does a weird flip.
Fuck.
Needing something to distract me, I snatch the vibrant colored drink from the table, ignoring the sweet citrus taste that has my jaw clenching. The alcohol burns my throat as I gulp back several mouthfuls, my eyes still magnetized to the man currently staring me down. I don’t know how long our eyes are anchored to one another’s, but when Haldon snaps his fingers in front of me, the effects of the weird ass cocktail he ordered start to kick in.
“Yo,” he barks. “Who’re you eye-fucking?”
“Nobody,” I grumble.
“Whatever,” he smirks.
Fucker knows, he just wants me to admit it.
I resist the urge to let him get to me, instead ordering another round of drinks to try to forget the fact Milo is lurking nearby. It doesn’t matter what I do, though. I keep catching his eye, and I don’t hate the way it makes me feel.
A few drinks later and Roman and Lani have left, taking their intense silence with them. Haldon offers to drive Savannah home, though I doubt it’s out of chivalry because that guy chases after pussy like Tom chases Jerry.
Ultimately, I’m left with Haven, who refuses to leave just yet. She’s having a good time, and I don’t want to take that from her. After working her ass off at school, she’s earned this. So, I sit back and watch from afar as she sways to ‘Ride’ by Twenty One Pilots. She’s surrounded by college friends who she introduced me to earlier, her girlfriends grinding their bodies against each other.
My focus drifts back to Milo, who’s talking to a guy dressed in a toga. The white sheet is slung low around his abs, muscles glistening against the low light. Even from here, I can see the appeal. The guy is literally built like a god, and Milo is drinking it in.
He runs a hand up Milo’s chest, leaning forward to say something in his ear. My fists clench, my jaw feathering as I watch their exchange. This shouldn’t piss me off; Milo means nothing to me. Yet the possessive energy swarming my body is telling me otherwise.
Milo glances at me, and in that one look, I know exactly what he’s doing. His dark eyes are filled with silent challenge, like he’s testing me. And fuck , is he testing me right now. He slides a hand through the guy’s hair, tilting his head to the side before saying something. Though I can’t make it out, I see the smirk lift Milo’s lips before he turns and leaves the bar.
Pushing off the couch, I storm across the room, shoving through the door that Milo just used. I know I should walk away, but I can’t describe the feral energy pulsing through me.
The corridor is dark, just how I remember it from a few weeks ago. The door at the far end that leads to an office is open, so I make my way there. Only when I reach the room, it’s empty. It’s stupid how disappointed I feel.
Fuck. Why am I so fucked up? He’s part of the problem; the Russians pushing into our territory. But the reminder that he’s the enemy is merely a post-it note stuck on the refrigerator. It’s there, but I take no notice.
“Looking for Kyrovsky?”
I startle at the deep voice, spinning around to come face to face with a dark-haired man. He’s attractive, tall and covered in tattoos. His eyes are as black as his hair, his jawline sharp with a gaze to match. Though he’s not presenting any danger to me, I can see the wariness in his features as he waits for my response.
I nod affirmatively and he jerks his head towards the end of the corridor. “He’s outside.”
Stepping past him, I move towards the fire exit, the bright green sign lighting the door up like a spotlight. I push through the door, letting the cool air hit me in the face. The alleyway is dark, but I can make out Milo’s figure leaning up against the brick wall, one foot kicked up as clouds of smoke circle him.
“Nice of you to join me,” he comments, taking a drag of his cigarette. The amber glow highlights his sharp features, details that show just how pissed he is.
“Fuck you,” I sneer.
His eyes narrow on me as he sucks on his smoke, the silence stretching between us. “Somebody’s jealous,” he grins proudly.
I step forward, my lips curling. “I’m not jealous, Milo. I’m fucking territorial.”
Milo tosses his cigarette onto the damp ground, his penetrating stare locking onto mine. “Is there a difference?”
“Yes,” I hiss, stepping closer until I’m toe to toe with him. “Because you can only be jealous of something you can’t have. And I’ve had you.”
“And?”
“And I can have you again,” I answer.
“Is that so?” he challenges.
I press my hands to his chest, shoving him back against the wall. The sliver of distance between us vanishes when I cage him with my body, my hands resting on the wall either side of his head. I know I shouldn’t keep falling into this trap. Giving into temptation has only forced us deeper into the unknown. But nothing seems to be able to stop the pull between us, the gravity that keeps dragging me into his orbit, no matter how hard I fight it.
Milo slides his hand behind my neck, coaxing me closer until our lips brush. He smiles against my mouth, the anticipation killing me. “Then take me home, malen'kiy d'yavol .”