“Kat,” Sergey begins, saying my name with annoying softness. I swear he resists the urge to reach out to me. “I’m keeping you safe.”
“You’re keeping me prisoner.”
“Semantics…it’s all a matter of perspective,” he says with a shrug.
I try to keep the frustration from boiling over inside me, but he makes it incredibly difficult.
Eventually, the car slows on the Vegas strip, pulling into the private lot of a club. From the inside, it looks far more elegant than some of the other buildings nearby. It’s full of sharp angles, soft, glowing signs, and screams absolute luxury.
It looks like a place my dad would’ve gone to before in his downtime, where business took place behind the scenes.
Overall, the place looks powerful. Made by someone who knows what they’re doing.
I don’t even need to ask if it’s one of theirs. Of course it is.
Once we head inside, the air changes instantly, smelling like leather, money, and high-end perfume.
The lighting is low but warm, flickering over velvet booths and dark, moody tables. The music pulses low and dark, almost like it’s trying to creep into your bones.
It’s gorgeous and not at all like the usual sleazy clubs around the area.
I hate that I notice it, and I hate that I even care.
Before anything, Sergey leads us to a booth with a perfect view of the entire room. Of course. He screams control freak.
He slides into the semicircle booth, gesturing for me to follow. I don’t want to, but I do anyway, well aware of thescene he’d likely cause if I didn’t, which would only result in me coming out as the uptight one.
I feel trapped in the plush seat next to him, and the moment one of the servers rushes over to help us, Sergey orders without even asking what I want.
It’s another power play. Everything is with him.
Still, the drinks arrive soon after. Neat whiskey, almost like he assumes I wouldn’t be seen dead with a frilly drink.
Not that I’d oppose something fruity, but in this moment, I’d rather he not treat me like I’m delicate. So, I can’t complain too much about his choice.
He slides one to me easily enough, keeping his eyes on me without saying much of anything.
I sip it slowly, letting the burn distract me from the fact that I’m stuck with him.
Him and his light green eyes that catch the light while he takes in our surroundings. Or the freckles across his nose that seem more noticeable than usual.
“To a new chapter,” Sergey says, lifting his glass.
But I don’t touch my glass to his. “Don’t try toasting to something one of us signed up for.”
“Well, technically, you did.”
“Semantics,” I echo from earlier, eyes narrowing at him slightly.
He chuckles at the callback, then sips his whiskey before setting it down again. “Sharp.”
“I can be even sharper if you’d like.”
“You say that so affectionately,” Sergey teases, grinning at me like we’re on a date instead of me being held hostage by his whims.
In response, I down half the drink, allowing the fire moving down my throat to keep my anger in check.
He watches with a mixture of amusement and something more intense, then he hums. “You’re stubborn.”
