Chapter 2 #2
“I own this hotel, Zoya. You’re working for me whether you know it or not.” Alexei pulls me toward the dance floor before I can protest. “And it would look very suspicious if a waitress refused the host, don’t you think?”
Fuck. He’s a sly bastard who doesn’t have a point.
Alexei pulls me flush against him, moving to the slow rhythm. I have to tilt my head all the way back to look up at him, putting the scar near his upper lip directly in my line of sight. “Relax,” he chuckles under his breath. “You look like you’re going to be executed.”
“I probably am. You never know when it comes to thugs.”
He laughs at that, a genuine sound that catches me off guard. “Tell me, did you enjoy my gifts?”
I step on his foot. Hard.
He doesn’t even flinch. “Careful, beautiful. I might think you’re doing that on purpose.”
“Oh, sorry, sir. I’m a bad dancer.” I step on his other foot.
“StrangeMoscow47,” he muses suddenly. “I liked the singing, Zoya. Even if you were just doing it for the money, you put on a hell of a show for me.”
Every part of me stops.
“What are… you…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I stammer, flustered.
“Don’t lie to me, Zoya. It’s embarrassing.
I know it was you on that screen, just like I know you’re lying to me right now.
” His hand slides down my back, stopping right at the top of my ass.
“Maybe use some of that money I’m sending you for singing lessons, Vedma.
I’d hate for you to scare our children with that voice. ”
I go stiff in his arms. “First off…are you seriously threatening to get me pregnant? And second, I’m not a witch.”
Alexei throws his head back and laughs. It’s the second time I’m seeing him laugh so real and loud. “So a man saying he wants kids with you is a threat now?”
“Yes,” I say, not missing a beat.
“You didn’t even have to think about that one.”
“I didn’t need to.”
He leans in smiling. “Good to know. But I should probably warn you - I’m hard to say no to. And I always get what I’m after.”
“Not this time.”
“We’ll see.” He spins me away fast, then yanks me back against his chest so my back is flush with his suit. A clean scent of bergamot and crushed leaves hangs around him.
“And you’re wrong about the witch thing. You’ve definitely done something to me.”
I look him dead in the eye. “You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”
“I like the sound of yours better,” he says, his grip tightening.
He pulls me closer until there isn’t an inch of space between us.
His lips brush my ear, and his voice drops to a rough whisper.
“Ever considered switching to my cock as a microphone, beautiful? I bet your voice would improve a lot after some proper throat lessons… and I’d be happy to give them to you. ”
I don’t say a word, even though my heart thuds hard against my chest. I just slam my heel into his foot again, definitely on purpose this time.
The music swells toward its ending, and before I can pull away, his hands grip my waist and lift me effortlessly off the ground.
I gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders for balance as he spins us once before leaning me backward in a dramatic dip.
His face hovers inches from mine, his dark eyes dropping to my lips. “You know what I think, Zoya?” he whispers.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the adrenaline.
“I think you came here tonight because you wanted to see me again.”
“My God, how delusional are you? Not everything revolves around you, Alexei. Shocking, right?”
“Then why is your heart racing?” His fingers tighten on my waist. “Why are you looking at me like you can’t decide if you want to slap me or kiss me?”
“Oh, you got the slap part right,” I push back. “What did you read before you came here, some cheesy romance book? Your pickup lines suck.”
Alexei laughs. He seems to be doing that a lot. “There she is. My feisty little journalist.”
He pulls me upright and sets me back on my feet. His hands smooth down my dress where it has ridden up, his palms sliding over my hips with a slow, deliberate touch. It isn’t a nice gesture; it’s like he’s reminding me exactly who’s in control.
Then he taps my ass – twice - right in front of his guests.
One of his men approaches and whispers something in his ear. And at once, Alexei’s expression goes serious.
“Duty calls.” He steps back and touches the camera button on my collar. “Nice tech, but my guys sweep for this stuff. The only reason you still have that camera is because I’m allowing it. I’ll be watching.”
And then, he walks away, leaving me standing in the middle of the dance floor with my heart pounding.
Twenty minutes later, my phone buzzes. A message from Sergei.
Sergei
Get to the back room. My camera is out. They’re making deals.
Delivered
I slip through a service hallway and peer through a cracked door. I see guys with guns, tables covered in cash and drugs, and women draped over their laps. I’m trying to adjust my collar for a better angle when the shooting starts.
Glass explodes. I hit the floor, feeling a crack.
I look down and see my phone broken with black ink already spreading.
With no time to mourn over my device, I cover my head while bullets tear through the room.
In the corner of my eye, I see my boss slumped against the wall with blood spreading across his shirt. I crawl over to him.
“Shit…Sergei!” I press my hands against the wound in his side. The blood just keeps seeping through my fingers. “Stay with me!”
His eyes are unfocused, his breathing shallow.
The gunfire intensifies until two precise shots ring out from the hallway. Suddenly, heavy silence falls over the room.
Footsteps echo across the broken glass. Alexei walks into the carnage with his hands clasped behind his back like he’s taking a stroll through a park. Not a single hair out of place. Not a drop of sweat on his face.
“Well, isn’t this nice?” He surveys the blood splattered across the expensive carpet. “Two groups of motherfuckers ruining my evening and my decor. Who is going to foot the bill for this?”
The surviving gunmen lower their weapons immediately. One man from the attacking group steps forward. “Pakhan, we have to avenge this. Those lowlife Japanese keep messing with our operations at the Chinese border.”
Alexei stays quiet for a long moment. When he finally speaks, his voice is deadly calm. “So you appointed yourself the messiah? Your balls must be the size of a breeder bull to pull this shit in my establishment and cause a scene like this.”
He turns to the other group. “My Yakuza counterparts will pay one million dollars in damages for this mess. And as for my own idiotic members, the costs will be deducted from your salaries. Now scram.”
They scatter like roaches.
I stand up from where I’ve been crouching over Sergei, still covered in his blood, trepidation running through me. Alexei’s eyes find mine immediately.
“Are you hurt, Zoya?”
I shake my head and point down at my boss, my fingers quivering. “No, but my boss is. Please, you have to help him before he bleeds out!”
He glances at Sergei with obvious disinterest. “Eh, no. I have no interest in touching another man. Now, if you were bleeding, I’d rush to your rescue. But I’m not doing anything for a balding old man.”
“Please!” Desperation makes my voice crack. “I can’t get him out myself, and my phone is broken!”
He sighs like I’m asking him to move a mountain. “Fine. I will help him, but on one important condition.”
“Yes! Anything!” I nod frantically.
“Anything?” He raises an eyebrow, a dangerous smile creeping back onto his face. “How dangerous, Zoya. You should really learn to negotiate better.”
Despite the mess around us, he pulls me flush against him. The blood on my dress smears onto his expensive suit, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Have dinner with me tomorrow, and I’ll throw in free healthcare for life for baldy over there.”
I look at Sergei’s pale face. I have no choice. “And if I refuse?”
His hand trails from my cheek down to my lips, his thumb dragging across my bottom lip before moving lower. He cups my cheek, caressing the tender skin. His touch slides to my neck, fingers settling at my nape.
“Then I let him die, Zoya, and still take you to dinner, kicking and screaming bloody murder. Your choice, beautiful. You can take the easy way or the hard way. But either way, you’re having dinner with me.”
His hand is still resting on my waist, his thumb stroking small circles.
“Please! He’s going to die!”
“You’re the one who’s stalling, beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning in until his lips brush my ear. “Tick tock, Zoya. He’s losing a lot of blood. What’s it going to be?”
I swallow, shaking all over. He knows I don’t have a choice, and he is using that as a weapon. “Fine!” I breathe. “I’ll do the stupid dinner with you tomorrow. Just help him.”
“Good girl.” He releases me and snaps his fingers. Footsteps scurry over immediately. “Get the old man to a hospital. Best surgeons available. Put it on my card.”
His men move to lift Sergei while Alexei pulls out a handkerchief. He wipes a streak of blood from my cheek gently. “I’ll be at your front door at seven,” he says. “Wear something that makes me want to take it off.”
“I don’t remember giving you my address,” I say, having a very odd feeling about this.
“You don’t have to. I make it my business to know where my woman lives.” He tucks the bloodied handkerchief into his pocket. “Don’t bother locking the door. It won’t stop me.”