Hmm, what are you playing at this time, Dahlia?
You could have taken him anywhere, yet you brought him to my club. Even if I wanted to kill him, I can’t. Even when she has the chance to go for the good guy, she prefers the bad one, loving to drive me insane.
She knows me, so why would she want me to lose my fucking mind.
Because if Tristan touches her, he won’t get out of my club alive.
She wants to torture me? Fine.
But no one else is allowed in our sick game. And I will make it fucking clear tonight.
Not wanting to lose one damn minute, I speed down the streets. Once I park in the underground garage, I step inside the elevator. Straightening my suit jacket, I try to appear more composed than I am.
A ball of pent-up frustration shoots up and down my spine. By the time the elevator opens on the third floor, I am so pumped up, I could take on an army.
I step inside my office, going straight to the bar, knowing I will need a drink for the scene I am about to witness. I want tosee how far she will take it and test whether she has the stomach to witness what she caused.
This is the big league, baby girl, and playing with a monster is not for the weak of heart.
I press the button on the wall, and the tinted, bulletproof glass clears. I want her to see me watching her. Scanning the partygoers, my eyes find her in the corner in a secluded VIP booth. Perks of being who she is. My men look lost, as if they don’t know what to do and are waiting for instructions while the server takes their orders.
I wonder if she would have been this brave to be near Tristan if my men weren’t making sure no one could touch her. She came here because she knew she’d be safe.
That knowledge warms the ice block that has become my heart.
Palming the glass, I mouth, “You’ll always be safe, baby girl.”
As if she hears me, she looks up, locating me behind the glass. And then she fucking slams her lips onto his.
I crack my neck, growling low. The instant rage raids the last of my sanity.
Her eyes round into doe eyes, blinking.
Acting impulsively, huh?
Bring her to me.
I type to Kirill.
Oh, baby girl, you fucked up.
9
DAHLIA
Idon’t know what it is, but something overcomes me as I glance at the window and catch Mika staring at me. My brain short-circuits. He drove me to absolute insanity tonight. And coupled with the smug look I witness, daring me, I break apart and in a split second, I plant my mouth on Tristan’s before quickly retracting.
My eyes bug out, not believing I just kissed him. I lost it. There’s no other explanation. My heart beats a frantic rhythm, threatening to deafen me. What have I done? Oh, my god. Anger shifts to clarity, and I gulp the rest of my drink, needing the hard alcohol to process my action and the implicit consequences.
“That was unexpected,” Tristan says, a smirk curling up the corners of his mouth. “Respect.”
I blink at him, still processing my out of the ordinary reaction. I wouldn’t consider it a kiss. It didn’t even last a full second. Not that Tristan isn’t handsome. He is—from his brown hair, thicker on top and trimmed on the sides, to those deep brown eyes framed by thick lashes and sculpted lips with a small mole on the side, to a well-crafted body. Any woman would want him. He just has a certain something that intrigues you.
I guess I am the only unlucky one not to. Or lucky, I guess, depending on how you see it. His style speaks of refinement. He almost fools you into thinking he’s a gentleman, but behind his tailored-made suits lies a predator who leads his family with an iron fist.
My mind clears, and reality seeps through the fog, realizing what I did. I put his life in danger for what? A dangerous game?
Kirill, my personal guard, leans into me. My entire body freezes—not because of his nearness but because he interacts with me only if there is something important to discuss.
