My breath caught. This wasn’t the kind of conversation I usually had with men I’d just met. It felt dangerous, reckless. But god, I wanted more.
“I’d…” I started, then faltered. The possibilities were suddenly endless and overwhelming. “I’d do something unexpected.”
“Like?”
I looked up at him through my lashes, feeling bolder than I had in years. “Like dance the night away with a handsome stranger, maybe.”
His smile was slow in a way that should have set off warning bells, but instead sent a thrill racing through me.
“Is that what you want me to do? Ask you to dance?”
“Do you want to ask me to dance?” I felt my voice catch in my throat. God damn it. We were flirting…hard. Harder than I’d ever flirted, and it was because I wanted to.
Viktor’s lips brushed my ear. “We can do whatever you want, Beatrice.”
My name in his mouth was like a gentle river, pleasing me in the best of ways. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment, the rebellion, the sheer thrill of doing something my brothers would absolutely forbid.
When I opened them again, Viktor was watching me with an intensity that made my body want his against mine, grinding the night away.
But before I could grab his hand and tug him to the floor for a night of plain old dancing, I felt the vibe in the club change. There was movement behind Viktor, too much movement, and the next thing I knew, people were screaming, shouting, pushing past each other toward the exits.
“Fire!” someone yelled, and the word rippled through the crowd like a match to gasoline.
That’s when I smelt the acrid smell of smoke and immediately felt the panic tingle up my fingertips. My body went rigid from the ice flooding my veins.
Fire.
The word echoed in my head, dragging up with it memories I’d spent many nights trying to bury.
I began to hyperventilate.
“Beatrice?” Viktor’s voice sounded far away. “Beatrice, look at me.”
But it was too dark, and there was so much smoke, just like it had been back then.
“Beatrice? We need to get out of here. Look at me!” he shouted again.
I couldn’t move or breathe. The smoke was getting thicker, but I was no longer in the club. I was sixteen years old again, trapped in that room—
“Beatrice.” His hands gripped my shoulders, anchoring me to the present. “We need to go. NOW.”
I forced myself to focus on Viktor’s face. He looked calm, steady, everything my heart refused to be.
“There’s a fire—” My voice cracked with terror.
“I know there’s a fire,” he said firmly, taking my hand. “Stay with me. I’ll get you out.”
I couldn’t think straight, but knew I needed to nod to get out of here. Viktor gripped onto my hand, so damn hard that I knew he wouldn’t let go, and guided me through the people shoving and pushing. When the crowd grew too compact, he moved behind me to keep people from pushing into me.
His hands were outstretched in front of me, his back pressing against mine.
“This way,” he said, clearing the path to the back door, a service door not many knew about, evidently.
A security guard let us pass, and the first thing I did was breath in the clean air, letting it fill my lungs. But nothing I did cleared away the panic. My chest was still heaving. My hands were still tingling. My legs were still shaking.
I needed to sit down. I was about to fall to the ground, right then and there, prepared to curl up and let the panic lead me to unconsciousness because I couldn’t face this anymore, but felt Viktor’s hand slide across my waist.
“My car’s this way,” he said, guiding me toward a sleek sedan, the chauffeur standing next to it, moving to open doors. “Let’s get you away from here.”
