Chapter 14
NINA
“When is Mr. Crimelord arriving?”
“I don’t think he’s here yet.”
We’re in the ballroom of The Regal, a ridiculously glitzy hotel filled with gold accents and waiters maneuvering through the crowd in three-piece suits. The event is supposedly to network with donors, but judging from the pumping music and the free-flowing champagne, it’s more of a party.
There’s a lot of Russian being spoken, which has me on edge. The last time I saw Art’s family was the worst day of my life.
“Well, there’s gotta be some eye candy at this event, and your date is it.” Lily flips a hand through her red hair and pouts her lips.
I grit my teeth and resist my instinct to tell her to back off.
I don’t want Art, so I have no right to scare anyone else away from him. Even if the other day in the stairwell did confuse things… It doesn’t mean anything. I can’t trust him. I can’t let him in.
“I don’t think it counts as a date. He’s my ex.”
We grab another glass of champagne from the waiter. Alcohol is the only way to calm my nerves when I know that Art could make a sudden appearance from nowhere.
As if on cue, Lily’s blue eyes go wide just as I’m about to take a sip.
A huge hand closes around my waist. I don’t even have to look up to know it’s him. I can smell his sharp cologne and recognize the firm but gentle pressure of his touch in an instant.
But I turn to him anyway, my breath catching in my throat as I meet his eyes. One blue, one hazel. Cool crystal and autumn leaves.
“Hi, Nenoka.” Art gives me that lopsided grin that warms me all the way through. His hand on my waist is reassuring and firm.
“Hi.” My greeting comes out more as a sigh as I drink him in. He cuts an imposing figure, easily the tallest man in the room, his tousled golden hair catching the light. I resist the urge to trace my hand over his jaw. I’m getting carried away, but he looks so damn good.
Art’s tie is the exact shade of forest green that he chose for my dress.
The package arrived this morning, a giant white box filled with champagne-colored tissue paper that Ava thought was magical as we opened it.
Reluctantly, as I ran the liquid silk of the emerald green dress through my fingers, I let myself admit that Art does have taste. And that he somehow knows my size.
This is probably the nicest thing I’ve ever worn. I don’t even want to think about how much it cost.
“Oh. OH. This is a date date. Am I third-wheeling?” Lily’s voice cuts through and I step away from Art. With a growl, he tightens his grip on my waist.
“You are,” he says. At the same moment as I say: “This is not a date date. This is my ex tormenting me for unknown reasons.”
Art bends down so that his lips brush my ear. “You didn’t seem too tormented yesterday,” he whispers. My face flushes as I remember our encounter in the stairwell.
I don’t like risk. I don’t like danger. But Art makes me crave all of those things.
Lily narrows her eyes at my reddening face and the intimate position as Art holds me close to his side. “What is this? You guys are what, fake dating? For shady mafia reasons?”
“There is nothing fake about this,” Art cuts in smoothly. “And it’s the Bratva. Do I look Italian to you?”
Lily holds her hands up. “No need to be so defensive, Mr Crimelord. Thank you for the pay raise and the free massages.”
He turns to me, a bemused smile spreading across his face. “You told your friend I was in the mafia?”
“I told her organized crime. She made her own assumptions,” I sigh.
A grin spreads across Art’s face. “You told your friend about me.” He brings his hand up from my waist to play with one of my curls.
“I didn’t want to lie to my best friend. It’s not a big deal.”
I shrug away from him, but it does nothing to eradicate the stupid smile from his face. There’s no way I’m going through this event being introduced to people as Art’s date, especially not while we’re wearing matching outfits.
He doesn’t own me, and he needs to learn that. I don’t want everyone in our workplace to think I’m sleeping with the boss.
I drag Lily away with me.
“Are you fucking him?” she asks me, the second we’re out of Art’s earshot.
I neck back the glass of champagne and ignore her question. Then I grab a fresh glass from the waiter.
“Do you want to dance?” I call loudly over the music.
“So you are.” She puts her hands on her hips and tosses her hair. “Getting back with your ex is rarely a good idea, Nina. Trust me, I’ve been there.”
I just shake my head and pretend it’s too loud to hear as I pull Lily onto the dance floor. It’s way too early to start dancing at an event like this, but I’m tipsy. There’s enough nervous energy coursing through me to power this entire hotel.
I still don’t know what Art wants. But I love the way that even now, as I scream the lyrics to pop songs with Lily and bounce around the empty dance floor with her, I can feel Art’s eyes on me. He’s keeping tabs on me.
I should hate it. But I don’t. Some secret part of me likes that he’s unable to tear his eyes away even when I’m just dancing with my best friend.
Daniel joins us on the dance floor, and we pull him into a group hug.
As the only three residents at Middlefield, we do have a special bond.
This night is taking me back to college, right before everything happened with Art.
When I could just be a normal student at a party with my friends instead of a single mom trying to balance full-time study.
The small group of us dancing together attracts a crowd. Pretty soon, Lily is swept away by a tattooed guy with a scar on his face who looks just like the guy she was eyeing at the bar, on that night when Art insisted on driving me home. It feels like an eternity ago.
Daniel extends his hand to me.
On instinct, I look up and find Art’s gaze immediately. Searing and thunderous all at once.
Good. One kiss doesn’t make me his. One night doesn’t make me his. And he’s gonna learn that.
I smile at Daniel and take his hand. I shift my focus to him, where he’s smiling a little too widely. His hands drop to my waist, pulling me closer to him.
The only thing that stops me from shoving Daniel away is imagining the look on Art’s face.
He can buy the hospital where I work, he can try to worm his way back into my life, but Art cannot stop me from dancing with my friend at a party.
He pauses whatever conversation he’s having, with a donor or a business partner of the hospital, and fixes his full attention on me as I loop my arms around Daniel’s neck.
His face darkens with the wrath of a vengeful God, and I get a chill of pleasure out of it. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but he will not let this continue for long.
I spin around and press myself closer to Daniel, just to see his reaction, but when I look up, Art is headed out of the ballroom.
Disappointment courses through me.
Maybe I was imagining the anger painted across his face. After five years apart, I’m sure Art has been with a ton of other women. I’m probably fooling myself into thinking he still feels anything towards me.
Then Daniel‘s phone starts ringing midway through our next dance. His face falls as he answers, nodding seriously.
Just from his facial expression, I think I can guess who’s on the other end of the call.
He steps away from me, dropping his hands from my waist and pushing his hair back from his forehead.
“I’m gonna have to head to the hospital. Sorry Nina,” he says with genuine sadness, looking like a wounded puppy. “There’s been some kind of emergency.”
“Don’t go,” I ask him. “Give me the phone.”
Daniel looks torn for a second. “Management specifically called me in, Nina,” he says. “Besides, you and Lily have both been drinking and I haven’t, so I should definitely be the one to go.”
There’s no way to tell him that the call is absolute bullshit without raising serious questions about my relationship with Art. Lily is the only one who knows.
So I let Daniel rush away, to what he thinks is an emergency. He’s barely out of the room before Art appears with a thunderous look on his face.
He doesn’t ask, he just leads me to the dance floor.
“Nice performance,” he says with his eyes narrowed. “But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Nenoka. You’re not a good liar. If he bought that, he’s deluding himself.”
I roll my eyes. “You can’t read minds, Art. I was having fun.”
“I didn’t buy you that dress so you could have fun with other men.”
“So why did you buy me this dress then, Art?”
He dips his head and speaks close to my ear. “So I could be the one to take you out of it.”
My stomach flips traitorously, and his hand moves a little lower on my back, so it’s just above the curve of my hip.
“Not happening,” I whisper, attempting to pull away with him, but his hands hold me steady.
We don’t even falter in our dancing, Art holding me exactly in place and moving us both to the music.
“I can’t dance with the owner of the hospital,” I hiss at him.
“Looks like you already are,” he smirks as he twirls me effortlessly across the floor.
“This is unnecessary. I’m allowed to dance with my friend.”
“I never said you weren’t. There was a workplace emergency that Daniel had to attend to.”
I glare up at the twinkle in Art’s eyes, trying desperately not to get lost in the depths of his gaze. I pull my focus to the crowds of people in the room. “There was not.”
“That wasn’t an innocent dance. Not with what you were doing, not with the way he was looking at you. Like he wants you.”
I unhook my arms from around his neck and push him away, but he keeps leading me in a dance, his hand splayed across the small of my back.
“Well, maybe he does want me. What would be wrong with that?”
“What would be wrong with that?” Art repeats in shock. His jaw tenses. “Everything would be wrong with that.”
He presses his lips together for a second, raising his eyes from mine to look out across the ballroom.
“Every time I see him with you, I’m holding back from breaking his fingers for putting his hands on you.”
The words land like a blow to my chest, sucking the air from my lungs and inexplicably kindling heat deep in my belly.
Then Art swings me around with more force. I think he’s changed our dance style, until I glance up and see his face pinched in concentration.
His eyes flick to the door. His hands tighten on me. Two bangs penetrate through the music.
His eyes fix on me and he yells something in Russian.
The next thing I know, we’re on the ground under the drinks table, Art taking the impact of our movement.