But hey, on the bright side, I understood her asking for my name! “???? ????? ????.”(Menya zavut Rosa.)God, one could break their tongue speaking in their language. The next glass she was about to gulp halted near her mouth as Kostya cursed, and the shaker dropped to the floor. Both of them looked at me with their eyes wide and mouths hanging open.
Um… was my name so unusual in Russia, or ugly? Sipping my drink, I decided I’d raise my middle finger to everyone who commented on it.
“You brought her here, you idiot?” she shouted at Kostya in English, as my head moved from side to side, listening to their conversation.
“How was I supposed to know? Michael told me she was the pakhan’s woman. So I took her to his hotel room.”
Huh? Hotel room? They had a rather strange nickname for his fuck pad. The thought of the bed where he screwed many women instantly made me angry, so I sipped more of my drink and winced at how strong it actually was. Kostya sure didn’t hold back on the vodka. However, burning sensations heated up my skin and my mood shifted to happier.
“You are an idiot,” she repeated, and the more the woman spoke, the more I considered her a friend.
“She’s right. You are an idiot.” They both snapped their attention to me, and I laughed hard. Somehow, euphoria was washing over me and a hiccup escaped my lips.
“What the hell did you give her?” the blue-haired woman asked him, and then sniffed my drink. “Kostya, he is going to kill you. Almost no juice.”
The man raised his hands in defeat. “What? I thought she needed liquid courage.”
“Blyat…” Their voices faded as Kid Cudi’s “Memories” started to play, and suddenly my muscles ached to dance and forget about all my problems with the music. With all the studying and dating, I forgot about my hobby. What good did it do me, really?
Placing the glass on the bar top, I darted to the middle of the dance floor and swayed my hips to the music, bending my elbows, spinning, and lip-synching to the song. My eyes closed as the beat took me prisoner, while nothing existed but this moment where I was incredibly happy.
Dominic who?
Yeah, exactly. Arms circled around me, pulling me back on someone’s hard-on, and I froze. Spinning quickly, a muscled man with his hair cut in a Mohawk grinned widely at me. “????? ????????.”(Kakaya krasivaya.)His breath smelled of the alcohol and cigarettes he’d probably consumed greedily at this party.
Pushing at his chest, I said, “Let go of me.”
“American?” he asked, surprised, and what the ever-loving fuck? Did all these Russian guys speak English? Was it some kind of requirement to enter the organization? Had a good grade in English? Come on in, and if not, get the hell out.
“In that case, you’re one hot babe.” He tried to push his knee between my legs, but I kept them closed and pushed again. I might have been drunk, but not so much I was already looking for a rebound.
A loud roar from the doorway interrupted our argument. “????? ?? ??? ???? ????!”(Uberi ot nee svoie ruki!)Dominic’s enraged command electrified the air as he strode toward us, menace shining from his eyes. In a second, he squeezed the Mohawk guy’s neck and threw him into the pool table as the guy crumpled painfully to the floor. The music cut off, people watching us with fear and curiosity at the same time, while no one spoke a word. “Kostya,” he barked, and the guy came immediately with the blue-haired warrior. “Why is my woman in the middle of this party with Gleb touching her?” The Mohawk guy chose this moment to moan, getting up wobbily, as blood slipped through his fingers on the floor. Dom must have broken his nose.
“Pakhan, I meant no disrespect. No one told me she was yours.”
Dominic glanced at me and then took out the cross on my neck for everyone to see. “This wasn't indication enough?” Then he frowned, creating a deep line between his brows. “How could you not know? Michael had specific instructions to introduce her. Where the fuck is he?”
Kostya stood in front of him, his hands in his pockets, his icy-blue pools deep with regret. “It’s my fault. We misunderstood each other. I left her in your hotel room, and she decided to have a drink and hang out with us.” Well, hang out was a strong word for what we had going on before Dom showed up, but apparently Kostya lived in his own reality.
Dom’s face transformed from pissed off to deadly in a matter of seconds, his cheeks blushing and his eyes filling with shame. Our gazes clashed as he raised his hand to caress my cheek, but instinctively, I flinched and clenched my hands into fists. Just remembering his room and all the implications of his past liaisons made me nauseous, and I didn't care that it was stupid to be jealous of the past.
Focusing his attention on his people, he said slowly, yet with so much force in his voice that I wanted to hide under a blanket. “All of you, listen to me well. This here”—he pointed at me—“is my woman. Not a piece of ass you can disrespect, but the pakhan’s future wife.” Blinking rapidly at this information, I wondered if that was his proposal or something, because I sure as hell never got the ring. “No one touches her. No one breathes in her direction without my permission. If you upset her, you upset me. And more importantly, protect her with your life. Is that clear?” They nodded rapidly, although some of them, by the skeptical looks, weren't convinced or happy with his choice.
Oh, screw them.
“Kostya, three o'clock, my office.” Then he addressed the woman. “Konstanciya, you too.”
“What the hell did I do wrong?” she whined, folding her arms and glaring at the bartender. “He’s the one who screwed up.” Dom ignored her comment, and she cast her eyes down at his fierce stare.
“Rosa, let’s go.” Stepping back, I shook my head in denial.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer to stay here.” Then I couldn't help but add, “Enjoy relaxing in your fuck pad.”
One second, I stood high and mighty, and the next, Dominic threw me over his shoulder and strolled in the direction of the lobby. He walked up the stairs to the second floor as my head kept spinning from being upside down and the drink I’d consumed. “Your fuck pad is there.” I motioned at no particular place, just knowing one of the rooms downstairs was his. “Where are you taking me?” The hard slap on my ass came out of nowhere, and I rubbed my butt cheek. “Ouch, that hurt!”
“Quiet,” he growled, and my rage boiled over.
“Why?” God, why did I sound like a stupid teenager? “Showing me such disrespect, placing me in the same room as your whores.” Guilt washed over me, because maybe all those women he had slept with weren't whores, but when you had feelings for a man and dealt with his past… yeah, all women were whores and bitches. No one wanted to paint an image of a sweet, caring woman in her head.
