SIX
Smile . Just smile , nod, and don’t open your fucking mouth and ruin this. Sound advice. Who knows what the hell might come out if I did say something. Not that I think I could. Nik continues to stare into my eyes, a bearded grin reaching for his ears.
“Are you ready?” he asks and guides me up the first couple steps.
No. No I am not fucking ready to be alone with this man. The same aroma of cedar lingers out of his partially open collar, and the scent alone is enough to make me float up the entire staircase to Volk. His hair is different tonight, not draping down each shoulder, but pulled in a bun while the top is combed and less wild than before. He doesn’t look like the rugged Viking I’ve met a couple times so far. No, tonight, Nik looks tame. A far cry from the animal I saw last night when he threatened to cook that man alive like a freaking hibachi chef.
He opens the door and gestures me inside. I’m immediately greeted by the energy of the club. Lights flash. The bass thrums through the floors. People. More people than I’ve ever seen fill every inch of this place. Him saying the club has done well must’ve been a humble admission. It’s no secret the party scene flocks to Volk, but it would appear as though word has gotten out to the tourists as well. I stare in awe, taking in the room with an amazed expression. Nik places his hand around me and over my hip, his touch swaying my attention.
“This way,” he says and nods at a staircase leading away from the club. “I have a surprise for you.”
I nod and follow his lead, carefully taking each step despite the shifting lights of Volk making the climb difficult. The door at the top looks like it was pulled from the hull of a submarine. Whatever is behind this vault, Nik doesn’t want people getting it. Or out , the irrational part of me intervenes.
“Where are we going?” I ask before I can stop myself.
He tilts his head. “You’ve seen the club. Maybe it’s time for something different.” He thumbs a combination of numbers into the keypad, and I can’t help but watch.
Eleven. Seventeen. Zero. Eight. Not sure what the numbers mean but he types them so fast, I almost miss the final two digits. What he said repeats in my head. Something different. Different how? We’re still in Volk, what could possibly be on the other side of this impenetrable door?
An audible chirp. Gears crank. Bolts slide and unlock. Each hollow noise cramps my stomach inch by miserable inch. Here we go. This is where the rug gets pulled out from under me, and everything I thought I knew about this man will be wrong. It’s happened before, but never to the extent of a guy turning out to be a serial killer and taking me into his secret murder room. Imports and exports? Does that include exporting my goddamn kidneys? Panic keeps me in place, and part of me refuses to take another step in.
“It’s okay, Natalia,” he says and extends his hand to me. Something flashes in his golden eyes. Something alluring, magnetic, and fucking irrefusable.
I shake off the war raging in my head and take his hand reluctantly. Breathe. You can do this. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s probably just …
My breath catches. “Holy shit …”
This isn’t some sick torture room, it’s a loft. An upscale loft suspended above the dance floor of Volk. Large glass windows extend across each wall overlooking the entrance, the bar, and even the DJ booth at the far corner. Small ceiling lights shine to the granite countertops in the kitchen. Mine are only a cheap laminate. His? The real fucking deal.
Glancing down, I practically see my own reflection in marble floors as I take another step inside. A plush black couch rests against one of the windows, and in the center of the room, a dining table. A dining table for us. Plates, napkins, and silverware are set neatly in front of each chair. Two candles flicker in dancing flames, highlighting the otherwise darkened areas of the room I scan cautiously.
“What do you think?” he asks while closing the door and sealing us in. The club music dampens but my heart continues the same fast beat of the song in my chest. Maybe it’s soundproofed? Who knows. But now I am locked in a glass box with Nik, a candlelit dinner, and enough nerves to make me want to puke at any moment.
“It’s—it’s perfect,” I sputter.
Nik leads me to the table and pulls out a chair for me. “Please,” he says softly. “Sit.”
I do as he asks, a newfound nervousness taking hold of each limb. Sit up straight, Natalie. Sit straight and smile.
“After last night,” he continues from the counter, his back to me. “I figured we could both use a night a bit less …”
“Chaotic?” I finish and bite my lip. If I can’t keep myself from talking, I’ll just have to bite back the words instead.
Nik chuckles, a low growl leaving his throat. “Exactly.” He turns toward me, a bottle of wine in his hand.
I glance at the table. Two glasses sit on the far end, both reflecting the candles at the center. There isn’t a bottle opener, nor is there a knife to pry out the cork.
His eyes glow even brighter somehow. Not from the candles, but as if his eyes are lighting the room themselves.
“Don’t you need a—”
Nik cocks his brow and silences. Without another word, he digs his thumb into the bottle neck and pops out the cork as easily as someone might uncap a beer.
My eyes widen, and my jaw hangs incredibly low. “How? How in the hell did you do that?”
One side of his face crooks up into a smile. “Old party trick my father taught me,” he says and tilts each glass while pouring the bloodred wine gently. Nik hands one to me and swirls his around, taking a moment to smell it. “Pauillac twenty-ten. I hope it’s to your liking.”
I can’t help but notice the way his rolled-up sleeves tighten under the stress of his flexed forearms. Small traces of black ink seemingly sway in the muscles just below his elbow. I’m stuck wondering what might hide beneath the rest of his shirt. How far do the tattoos travel up his large arms? It’s an honest thought, one that has me blushing and sitting a bit straighter.
“Thank you for joining me, Natalia.” Nik tilts his glass in my direction.
I do the same and take a small pull. The wine is better than he hoped. It’s fantastic. If I were on my couch in the comfort of my less-than immaculate loft, I would down the entire glass and help myself to seconds. I smile up at him and refuse the urge to take another sip if not two.
“It’s lovely. Thank you.”
He continues to stare at me while I do my best not to melt like the two candles between us. I’ve never had good posture, but sitting here now, I’m sure it looks like I went to a finishing school. No, I didn’t come from some wealthy family insistent on me having good table manners. I’m sitting as straight as I possibly can in fear of how my body might look in this fucking dress.
After a moment, Nik sits across from me, and although he only glances at my eyes at intervals, he also inspects every part of me visible from the opposite end. Eyes, mouth, body, back to my eyes, and then my brows when I draw them together.
“You are quiet, Natalia. Am I making you uncomfortable?” Sincerity not only smooths over his voice but his expression as well.
“No. Of course not.” Which is true, but he doesn’t need to know how nervous I am just being in the same room as him. Here I am with a man chiseled from fucking stone, and me? Well, I’m doing my best to sit up straight so the dress he bought me doesn’t give a single stomach roll.
“We can go down to the club if you’d like?”
“I—uhm—haven’t done this in a while,” I croak out, a lump of embarrassment forming in my throat.
Nik stands and scratches at the back of his head, almost displacing the band keeping his long hair together. “Me either.”
My eyes shoot open. “You?” He has to be joking. There’s no way he doesn’t have a little black book with dates filling each day of the week. “What about Veronica?” The name itself is enough to taste venom mixing with the wine I can’t get enough of.
He sighs. “Being the owner of a club like this comes with its own curses.” Another pull from his glass and Nik hunches over the chair, his shirt gathering at his shoulders and arms.
“A rotating door of the most beautiful women in LA? Yeah, cursed all right,” I scoff, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
Nikolai laughs, and I hate what the sound does to me. “Women who all look alike, and worse than that, they all look at me the same way. They don’t ask questions outside of what kind of car I drive or if my house is in the hills. Veronica was no different. I noticed it with how she treated you.”
What did we used to call you back then, Natalie? My skin writhes at the thought. She didn’t bring it up like it’d be some fun trip down memory lane. She did it to humiliate me one more time ten years later, in front of Nik, no less. And somehow, he caught on to what she was doing. He knew she was just another snake in a Versace dress.
He stares at me deeply. “Veronica is no longer in the picture. Hasn’t been since I realized she was no different from any of the so-called tens entering my club.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Kind of convenient.”
“The only thing convenient for me was meeting you,” he counters.
Blush creeps up my cheeks and heat radiates from the tightest parts of the dress to my neck. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if I should say anything. It’s the way he stares at me. Into me. Those eyes like spotlights highlighting every bit of my soul to be seen.
He takes a swig from his glass, finishing off the last bit. “What are you thinking?” Nik tilts his head curiously.
Rip open your shirt and jump your fucking bones? I press my lips to a thin, uneven line. There’s a lot I am thinking about, some require clothes while the rest … do not. I sit there and hope besides being unnaturally attractive, he also isn’t a mind reader as well. “Hmm?”
He places a thumb and finger on his chin, inspecting me. “Is something wrong?” The glow in his eyes dims, and defeat takes over his normally confident features.
Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t say anything stupid. I chant it like ten Hail Marys in the silence of a confessional booth. Sit up straight. Nod. Smile.
Nik stands upright and sighs. I take it back, this is the sound I hate because of what it does to me. That disappointed gust of breath leaving his round, irresistible lips.
“I tend to go a bit overboard without thinking. Forgive me. This all might’ve been a bit much to start out with. I’ll have Yuri bring the car around to take you home.”
What in the fuck am I doing? I am ruining this. I have to do something. I have to say something. But everything that pops in my head is more idiotic than the last. Nik takes his glass and the bottle to the kitchen island and turns, his gaze landing on mine still half-finished. My insides scream at me as he nears.
“When’s the last time you cut your hair?” I blurt, my voice near the point of cracking. That’s the best you could come up with? What are you going to ask next, Natalie? What shampoo he uses?
Nik’s mouth lifts into a smirk. “It’s been a while. Five years I think.”
“Around the time you came here from Russia?” I did my homework the way any rational adult would before agreeing to a date. At least, I thought I did at the time. Then, my small peek into his life morphed into an all-out stalking festival. The admission fee was six less hours of sleep, and I might’ve looked up every single Nikolai Vostik on social media. There are quite a few accounts, but none belonging to the man staring back at me. The small amount of information I could find cost $4.99, and I think it gave my computer a virus. Was it worth it? I’m still trying to decide.
“Natalia, have you been checking up on me?” he asks playfully, his grin now lifting both sides of his face.
Another wave of blush, and I drink from my glass to hide it. “A bit.”
“Good to know. Yes, it was around the time I arrived here in Los Angeles,” he says.
“Can I ask why? Couldn’t find any good barbers?” I laugh and stop when I notice he isn’t.
Nik gnaws on his lower lip, a noticeable hesitation to say more. “This club, this lifestyle, was never my idea for where I saw myself. Parents have a way of controlling your decisions even when you’re grown. At least my father does.” He fills his glass halfway again and continues. “When it was decided I would move to LA and run Volk with Viktor, I needed a decision that was mine and mine alone. Plus,” he pauses and grins, “my father fucking hates my hair. So all the more reason to keep it.”
I giggle though a piece of my heart breaks for him. Living a life he didn’t want or ask for? I can relate. There isn’t a month that goes by that my own mother doesn’t decide to give me her two cents via phone call or Facetime if need be. Are you still on your diet plan? The food must be good down there. Have you tried keto? I’m really hoping to have a grandbaby before I’m in a nursing home. He’s right. Parents do have a way of controlling you even from thousands of miles away.
“Do you ever regret it?” I ask. “Saying yes to your dad and coming here?”
Nik stares across the table at me, each flicker and sway of the candles reflecting in his tremendous eyes. “Not tonight I don’t.”