Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
DINARA
My feet are screaming and my back aches, but I feel weirdly buzzed.
I did it. I got through my first shift with my own tables. Other than a few mishaps early on, like delivering drinks to the wrong tables twice and running someone’s credit card for three hundred dollars over their actual bill, the night went smoothly.
All I want right now is a hot shower and maybe some shitty reality TV to zone out to. I collapse onto the bench in front of my locker and peel off my heels with a groan.
It’s been two days since he drove me home and took me out for tacos, and I haven’t heard from him since.
I’ve thought about texting him, something casual to test the waters, but every time I pulled up his contact, I talked myself out of it.
Better to play it cool. Let him come to me.
That’s the tactical reason, but the real reason is messier: I want to text him, and I’m not sure if it’s because I need him for information or because I want to hear his voice.
The door to the change room swings open and Oksana breezes in, followed by Klara and Yeva. Rada trails after them, snapping her gum and staring at her phone like the rest of us don’t exist.
“You killed it tonight!” Klara announces, dropping onto the bench beside me. “That’s worth celebrating.”
“Is it?” I massage my arch, wincing. “I don’t know how you all do this night after night.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Yeva pulls her hair from its bun and shakes it loose, red strands cascading over her shoulders. “Give it a few weeks and you’ll be running circles around the floor.”
Oksana opens her locker and changes out of her uniform. “We’re heading to a club after this. You should come.”
“Really?”
Going out with them could be useful. Bonding with coworkers, building the kind of trust that makes people open up.
But from the corner of my eye, Rada’s face has already gone sour, lips pressed together like she’s swallowed something bitter.
The last thing I need is workplace drama over an invitation she clearly doesn’t want extended.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m exhausted and I have nothing to wear.”
“Come on.” Klara nudges my shoulder. “You deserve a night out. Plus, you’re new to the city, right? You should be meeting people, having fun. When’s the last time you partied?”
The answer is embarrassing. Back in Moscow, I’d drink and play poker and shoot the shit with the guys. My father and his boxing students. Pavel and his crew. My life was computers and combat training and proving I could keep up with guys twice my size.
The girly stuff, the dresses and heels and makeup, that’s new. Part of the Evelina cover requires me to dress more feminine instead of a hacker who lives in cargo pants.
I’ve never been good with other women. Don’t know how to talk about the things they care about, don’t understand the unspoken rules of their friendships. Hope is the first real girlfriend I’ve had, and I love her, but I’m not sure we’d have met if it wasn’t for Pavel.
But Klara’s looking at me like she genuinely wants me to say yes, and Yeva’s already moving toward her locker like my agreement is a foregone conclusion. Maybe this is my chance to be something other than the outsider who doesn’t know how to fit in.
Oksana grins. “We’re going to Apollon, one of the hottest spots in Manhattan. Ever heard of it?”
“Apollon’s that place in Hell’s Kitchen, right? Some of my classmates were talking about it the other day. They said it’s pretty wild.”
“It is. Best music in the city, and the crowd’s always fun.” Klara pulls out her makeup bag and rifles through it.
“If she doesn’t want to come, don’t force her,” Rada mutters, not looking up from her phone. “And it’s a mafia club. Probably best to stay away.”
The word mafia piques my interest. “What do you mean, a mafia club?”
Rada finally looks at me, expression bored. “What do you think? The Valenti family owns it. They’re as powerful as the Baronovs.”
I did my research into the families that run this city before landing here, so I’m aware the Valentis are Cosa Nostra, rivals to the Baronovs.
“The Valentis opened Apollon last year and they’re killing it. But it’s different from Velour. It’s a nightclub, not a gentleman’s club.” Oksana shrugs as she brushes out her hair.
“Velour’s not new, is it?” I ask, sensing an opportunity.
“Oh, it’s been around for years. When the brothers took it over from their father, they changed it up. Renovated. Made it classier, gave it a different vibe entirely,” Klara offers.
Rada gives a throaty laugh. “Although the word is, it was very different back in the day.”
“How do you mean…” I start to say, but Oksana cuts me off.
“Rada. Those are just rumors.”
My pulse kicks up. They know something. Maybe not everything, but enough to hint at Velour’s darker past. But Oksana’s not interested in saying more. Better to build trust before I bring it up again.
Which is why spending time with them outside of work is exactly the right play.
Jesus, I sound so mercenary. The truth is, other than Rada, I like these women. I’m sure tonight will be a good time.
I glance down at my uniform. “Do I have time to swing by my place and change?”
“Girl, please.” Yeva waves off my concern. “My locker is basically a boutique. What size are you?”
“Depends on the cut, but usually an eight. I doubt we’re the same size,” I say, eyeing her toned frame.
“Please, I’ve got something that’ll look amazing on you.” She crosses to her locker and pulls out a black leather dress that makes my eyebrows rise. Strapless, tight, and sexy as hell.
I take it from her, running my fingers over the butter-soft leather. “This is gorgeous.”
“So?” Oksana takes it from me and holds it up, tilting her head critically. “What do you say? Live a little. Dance. Drink overpriced cocktails. Flirt with some American boys.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
Rada makes a noise that might be a scoff, but when I glance over, she’s reapplying her lipstick in the mirror.
Whatever. I’m not here for her approval.
“Yes!” Klara claps her hands together. “This is going to be so fun.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m zipped into Yeva’s dress. It’s so tight I can barely breathe, hugging every curve, and the strapless cut shows off my shoulders and the upper half of my tattoo sleeve. The hem hits mid-thigh, shorter than I’d normally wear, but damn, I look good.
“Holy shit,” Klara breathes, circling me like a sculpture she’s appraising. “You look smoking hot.”
“Agreed.” Oksana appears beside me with a makeup palette. “Now sit. Let me do your eyes.”
I settle onto the bench while she works, lining my eyes with kohl and sweeping dark shadow across my lids. Yeva takes over my hair, pulling it from its ponytail and working texturizing product through the strands until they fall in tousled waves around my shoulders.
“There.” Oksana steps back to admire her handiwork. “Perfection.”
I turn to the mirror, stunned by the transformation. The kohl makes my eyes look hooded and mysterious. The dress nips in at my waist before flaring over my hips, and cleavage spills over the tight bodice.
I thought I looked pretty good the night of my audition, but this is the sexiest I’ve ever felt.
Rada appears behind us in the reflection, expression pinched as she looks me over. “Can we go already? The bouncer I know is only there until two, and if we want to skip that insane line, we need to leave now.”
Yeva grabs her clutch. “Let’s go break some hearts, ladies.”
Apollon’s main floor is a sea of bodies and bass, the music so loud it pulses through my bones. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.
We’ve been dancing for what feels like hours, moving from one song to the next without stopping, and somewhere along the way I stopped overthinking and surrendered to the music.
Klara grabs my hand and spins me, both of us laughing as I nearly trip in the borrowed heels. Oksana’s got her arms in the air, completely lost in the rhythm. Even Rada seems to be having a good time, though she’s been collecting phone numbers from guys all night like she’s building a contact list.
The others have been drinking steadily, but I nursed one vodka soda early on and switched to water after. Old habits from my training. Stay alert. Never let my guard down. None of it matters tonight. I’m riding the high of a fun night out.
The song shifts to something slower and we drift off the dance floor, collapsing around a high-top table near the edge of the crowd. Klara fans herself with her hand, while Yeva orders another round of shots from a passing server.
“This is exactly what I needed,” Klara says, leaning back against the table. “My feet will hate me tomorrow, but it was so worth it.”
“Agreed.” Oksana’s face is flushed from dancing, as she ties her hair into a bun. “We should do this more often. Blow off steam after work.”
Warmth blooms in my chest at being part of “we,” like I’ve crossed an invisible threshold from new girl to friend.
Light flashes across the table as Oksana’s phone screen lights up. She picks it up, squinting at the message, eyebrows shooting up.
“Holy shit. Matvey Baronov just invited us to a party in the VIP area.”
“What?” Klara practically lunges for the phone. “Show me.”
Oksana turns her phone so we can see:
Matvey: Spotted you and your girls on the dance floor. Come up to VIP, second level. Party’s better up here.
A thrill runs through me. If Matvey’s here, maybe Kirill is too.
“Oh my God, where is he?” Yeva’s already scanning the upper level.
Oksana points up toward the VIP section. Through the crowd and shifting lights, a figure stands at the railing. Tall, broad-shouldered, raising a drink in our direction.
“Damn, Matvey Baronov is gorgeous,” Klara says, sighing dramatically. “Offensively hot.”
“I don’t know, I’ve always been more into Demyan.” Yeva grins. “He’s got that whole ‘I might be a serial killer’ vibe going on. I like a man with some chaos in him.”
“Of course you do.” Klara laughs. “You’ve always had terrible taste in men.”
Rada touches up her lipstick, not bothering with a mirror. “Kirill’s the most powerful brother and he’ll rule the empire someday. Why settle for anything less?”
Oksana snorts. “If power’s all you care about, why not just go after his father? He’s literally the pakhan.”
“Because Kirill’s hotter and I’m not into old men.” Rada drops her lipstick back in her clutch. “Besides, Ruslan will have to step down eventually. Kirill’s the future. I’m thinking long-term.”
My fingers tighten around my water glass. Irritation flares, catching me off guard. I’m using Kirill too, in a different way. So why does Rada talking about him like he’s a prize to be won make me feel like strangling her?
“So what do you say?” Oksana looks around at us. “Should we crash this party?”
I flash her a bright smile. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”