Terra
She knew which one before Marty even pointed it out. Orlov always chose the same booth in the far corner, where the dim red lighting was lowest and the curtain closed more completely than the others.
“There he is,” Marty murmured.
“Yeah , I can see him.”
He gave her a look.
“All right now. Be nice.”
Terra shot him a look right back.
“I'm always nice.”
Marty's eyebrows rose.
“Is that right?”
Terra frowned.
“All right, I'm nice when the customer deserves it.”
“Just don't piss him off,” her boss ordered.
And before Terra could answer, he was already walking away.
So much for staying nearby. Well, there was nothing to do but get this over with.
She drew in a deep breath and approached the booth.
Orlov looked up as she came toward him. He was dressed as he always was—expensively and almost entirely in black.
Tonight he wore a charcoal suit over a black silk shirt open at the throat.
His hair was slicked straight back from his narrow face, gleaming under the low lights.
The strange white streak at his right temple cut through the black like a slash of paint.
Candy and Crystal called him “Skunk Man” behind his back but Terra had never thought the nickname was funny.
There was something cold about Viktor Orlov. Not simply in the way he looked– though his pale gray eyes were certainly chilly enough. It was more in the way he watched people, as though he were studying them and deciding how useful they might be and how exactly he could use them.
His mouth curved into a smile when he saw Terra.
“There she is–my Bunny.”
Terra lifted her chin and gave him a thin smile.
“Hello, Mr. Orlov.”
He frowned faintly.
“So formal.”
Terra kept her professional smile in place.
“Well, what would you like me to call you?”
“Viktor, of course,” he murmured.
Terra nodded.
“All right. Viktor.”
His smile returned–a predatory slice of white on his narrow face.
“That’s better, my Bunny.”
There was a drink sitting beside him, something clear over ice. Vodka, probably. Terra had never seen him order anything else.
He patted his thigh.
“Come sit with me, Bunny.”
“I'll dance for you,” Terra said, frowning. “But we're going to go over the rules first.”
Orlov's smile widened.
“Rules? Come on now–we don’t need rules.”
“Oh, yes we do,” Terra said firmly. “No touching between my legs, no fingers under my thong and no grabbing my ass unless I tell you it's okay.”
Orlov shook his head and made a tsking sound.
“My, my. My Bunny has become very strict.”
Terra felt her shoulders tighten.
“I'm not your Bunny.”
“No?” He tilted his head. “That's what they call you here.”
“Bunny Canyon is my stage name.”
“I know.”
Something about the way he said it bothered her, but Terra ignored the feeling.
“Those are the rules,” she said. “Are we clear?”
Orlov lifted both hands in surrender.
“Perfectly.”
“Good. Then I’ll dance for you.”
Terra stepped forward and started the dance.
At first, Orlov behaved himself which almost made things worse.
Terra had expected his hands to be on her within seconds, but instead he sat back and simply watched as she moved to the slow pulse of the music drifting through the lounge speakers.
She rolled her hips and ran her hands over her body, keeping the movements sensual without giving him more than she had to.
His pale eyes followed her. But he wasn’t looking at her breasts or her hips–he was staring at her face.
Terra didn't like that. Most men in the club barely looked above her neck. It was annoying in its own way, but predictable. Orlov watched her as though he was waiting for something.
After several minutes of him staring at her, Terra turned her back to him and moved between his knees. She lowered herself until her ass barely brushed his lap, then rose again.
His hand closed around her hip.
She stopped abruptly.
“Hands off,” she snapped.
“Forgive me, my Bunny,” Orlov said smoothly.
He removed his hand and Terra resumed dancing.
A minute later his fingers slid over the bare skin of her thigh.
Terra moved away.
“Viktor…” she said warningly.
His hand dropped.
“You are tense tonight, my Bunny. You weren't so tense the first time you danced for me.”
“The first time I danced for you, I didn't know you wouldn't listen when I told you not to touch me,” Terra said tightly.
His smile vanished for a fraction of a second.
“Such a sharp tongue.”
“So I've been told,” Terra said dryly.
Orlov frowned.
“My Bunny needs to learn how to relax.”
Terra straightened and frowned back at him.
“Stop calling me your Bunny.”
Orlov stared at her and for several seconds there was only the distant thump of music. Then he leaned back and raised his eyebrows at me.
“Has my Bunny been a naughty girl while I was gone?”
The words sent an unpleasant little chill down Terra's spine.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said stiffly.
“Oh, I think you do.” He picked up his glass and swirled the ice slowly. “A large visitor came to see you recently.”
Terra's stomach tightened but she kept her expression neutral.
“I dance for a lot of customers,” she said blandly.
His eyebrows drew together in a scowl.
“Not like this one.”
Terra didn't answer.
Orlov took a sip of vodka, his eyes still fixed on her face.
“This customer of yours was large–very large. He had horns.”
Terra felt cold all over. He was talking about Taurex. But how did he know about the big Monstrum?
“If you're asking about another customer, that's none of your business,” she said shortly.
“I heard you spent considerable time with him,” Orlov continued, ignoring her. “People gossip, you know.”
“Do they?” Terra said, still trying to remain neutral.
“They do.” His pale eyes narrowed. “You know, my Bunny, I don't like sharing.”
Terra stared at him. For a moment, she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly.
“Sharing? What are you talking about?”
Orlov leaned forward, his long, pale fingers steepled.
“I don’t like sharing my Bunny.”
The skin between Terra’s shoulder blades prickled and she lifted her chin.
“I'm not yours. I can dance for anyone I want to.”
Orlov put down his glass.
“Is that what you believe?"
Terra crossed her arms over her chest.
“That’s what I know.”
He frowned.
“You have been avoiding me.”
“No, I haven't,” Terra countered.
“You refused me last week,” he said.
“I wasn't working last week when you came in,” she pointed out.
“You were here Tuesday.”
Terra froze. Tuesday? She hadn't worked Tuesday. She had come into the club for less than ten minutes because she'd left one of her accounting textbooks in her locker after studying during a break the weekend before. She had been wearing jeans and a T-shirt. She hadn't gone anywhere near the stage.
“How do you know I was here Tuesday?” she asked.
Orlov gave her a smug smile.
“I saw you.”
“You were here?” Terra was still trying to understand.
“No…not exactly.” His smile grew but his eyes were predatory.
The cold feeling spreading through Terra’s stomach intensified.
“Then how did you see me?”
He shrugged.
“I have friends. Perhaps I asked some of them to watch over you.”
Did he have her under some kind of surveillance? Feeling sick, Terra took a step back.
“This dance is over.”
Orlov rose and reached for her.
It happened so smoothly that for a second, she didn't react. He wasn't nearly as large as Taurex—he was barely taller than Terra in her heels—but there was something about the way he moved that frightened her.
“Sit down,” she said, taking a step back to avoid his reaching hand.
Orlov frowned.
“Why, my Bunny?”
“Because I'm leaving,” Terra told him.
She turned to go but before she could, he stepped between her and the curtain.
Terra's pulse began to quicken.
“Move!” she demanded.
Orlov looked almost amused.
“Ah, my Bunny is angry.”
Terra’s jaw clenched.
“My name isn't Bunny.”
“I know,” he purred. “You are Terra.”
His words made every hair on Terra's arms stand on end. Somehow, it hadn’t bothered her when Taurex had called her by her real name, but she didn’t like finding out that Orlov knew her real name–didn’t like it one bit.
When Taurex had called her Terra in the VIP lounge, something inside her had gone warm and soft. Hearing Orlov say it made her feel cold.
“How do you know my name?” she demanded.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out and caught a strand of her long blonde wig between his fingers.
“Blonde doesn't suit you nearly as well as your real hair.”
Terra jerked away, her heart slamming against her ribs.
“You've seen my real hair?”
His smug smile had widened.
“Of course.”
“Where?” Terra demanded.
Orlov laughed–a high pitched chuckle that put her nerves on edge.
“You look much prettier without all that makeup, too.”
A sick feeling rose in Terra's throat. She reached for the curtain, but Orlov caught her wrist.
“Let go of me!” she demanded.
“Why are you frightened?” he asked. “You should not fear me–I can be a kind owner.”
Terra lifted her chin.
“I'm not frightened–I'm pissed off. Now let me go.”
Instead of releasing her, his thumb began stroking the inside of her wrist.
“But why should I let go of my Bunny?”
Terra hated the slow, intimate movement. His cold fingers made her skin crawl.
“Let me go!” she demanded again.
“Your skin is very soft,” he murmured. “I wonder if you are soft all over, my little Bunny.”
She yanked her arm, but his grip tightened.
“Let. Me. Go.” The words came out in a snarl. Terra actually bared her teeth at him. She was beginning to feel frantic. If he didn’t stop touching her, she was going to go off on him!
For several seconds Orlov simply looked at her. Then, finally, he released her.
Terra stumbled backward a step, breathing hard.
“That is it. I'm done.” She started toward the curtain again, but Orlov’s voice stopped her cold.
“I saw Cody yesterday.”
Everything inside her froze and Terra turned slowly.
“What did you say?”
Orlov was smiling again–the smug curl of his lips letting her know he had the upper hand.
“Cody. Your son,” he said. “He’s a fine little man.”
The blood drained from her face and her stomach twisted.