“Kompot,” Rowan said without hesitation.
The word hit me like a jolt, and I snapped my head to him. What the hell had he ordered?
“Ah, a man of culture,” Andy chuckled as if Rowan had told him a particularly funny joke. His knowing smile lingered as he turned and disappeared into the press of bartenders and busboys behind the bar.
My eyes shot to Rowan. “What in the world is aKompot?” The word scraped against my ears.
Rowan’s laugh caught me off guard; a deep, rich sound I’d only ever heard from him once or twice when he was with Charlie. It was like finding warmth in winter and made my toes involuntarily curl.
He pulled his bar stool closer, sinking into it with that relaxed predatory ease he possessed that prickled my skin. “Kompot. It is a drink made from cooked fruits and berries,” he said playfully. “You should try it. It is popular with children, so you would enjoy it.”
I rolled my eyes. Screw him and his little jabs. “I can’t drink alcohol before I dance.” I kept my voice flat, practical. Survival mode. Focus on the job, not the man watching me with those frozen lake eyes.
“It is not alcoholic. But nevermind,” he said as he shook his head. “You bring me to my first question. . .” His voice dropped to an intimate register, each word a stone dropping into still water.
I got the impression I was not going to like the conversation as his eyes pierced me, stripping away my carefully haphazard mix of armor.
“What are you doing here,princess? Do you realize Levi would burn this place to the fucking ground if he knew you were here?”
I parted my lips to answer, but the words stuck in my throat. I almost slipped and said, “I’m here to hunt the man who killed me,” but I knew the absurdity of how that would sound. What could I have said that he would believe?
“Nothing,”Edward’s twisted voice snaked through my thoughts. “This man will never understand you, Violet.You aren’t special. You are nothing.”
My fingers curled against the bar top’s edge, nails biting into wood, trying to focus on the moment. It was solid. Real. I was grateful whenthe performance ended, and the club’s darkness swallowed me whole; the seductive bass pounding like a second heartbeat, before lights flashed and bodies began writhing once more in shadows around us.
“I. . .” I stumbled. Rowan watched me with those winter-pale eyes, and within that gaze lived worry tangled with something else I couldn’t place.
I sucked in air, let it fuel the steel in my voice. “I’m here to dance,” I said finally. “To earn some money. Nothing more, nothing less.” Part lie, part truth. Daddyhaddenied me money.
“Money?” He said incredulously, as if I had told him Santa was real. I nodded a little too hard, feeling like my jaw would dislocate.
Please buy it, Rowan. Please.
“Daddy wouldn’t let me access my trust and I. . .” I couldn’t finish. “Money, Rowan. That’s all.”
He leaned back, that almost-smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Nothing more?”
“Nothing more.” The lie felt acidic on my tongue.
The music swelled from the stage, filling me with a desperation to get up there and take ownership of myself. I needed to banish the ghosts from my past. My stomach knotted. This had been my world once. In another life. In another body.
When I finally get to dance,I thought,it will be a declaration that my body belongs to me. Only me.
Rowan shifted closer, becoming a barrier between me and the rest of the club, as if he were trying to remind me where my focus should lie. On him. . .
I said, “You’d better leave unless youwantto see me naked.”
Rowan scoffed. “The shame of nudity is self-imposed. You are like a sister to me, Violet. I do not care if you are nude or not.” He nodded towards the stage. “Besides, I respect all women and do not judge their careers. I would not treat you any differently.”
He spoke as if nothing else would factor into his outlook. Against my better judgement, I found it oddly endearing.
The bartender took that moment to slide our drinks across the bar. I wrapped my fingers around the cool glass and brought it to my lips.The water slid down my throat, soothing the burn there, steadying the tremble in my hands.
“Well, that’s unexpectedly mature of you.” I cleared my throat.
He shrugged as he sipped his drink. “It is not hard to be a decent human being.”
I closed my eyes as flashbacks of my other life brushed behind my lids. The overwhelmingabsenceof decent human beings in that life forced a sardonic laugh from me. “It’s hard for most people.” The words were so heavy on my lips.
