“You are not supposed to be here.”
“Sophia is my best friend.”
“I don’t care. You were not invited,” he growls.
This turns some heads from people walking by in the lobby. Attention. Great. Just what I need.
I shuffle and run a hand up my bare arm to flatten the goosebumps that seem to have appeared from nowhere. There’s something about this man’s presence that makes my blood run cold, yet somehow, there’s something exhilarating about that. Being stuck in an office all day makes the days of the week all blur into one. The most exciting thing about being Vice President of Portfolio Investment at Watson and Co. Holdings are the outfits. Apart from that, it’s pretty monotonous.
It’s nice to have an adrenaline rush, I guess.
But I don’t want to push my luck and end up dead at the hands of a guy who makes it his life’s work to kill. He’s in on the wedding—there’s no doubt about it. First, there’s the Russian accent—that’s a huge giveaway. The second is that cold, stoicdemeanor that everybody in the Bratva seems to possess. They are conniving people, there’s no point beating about the bush.
I look at his hand again, still locked around my wrist.
“If you let go of me,” I say, looking up into his eyes. “I’ll shut my mouth and keep the truth to myself.
“The truth?” The man tilts his head. “And what might that be?”
I shrug. “That my best friend is about to marry a monster.”
His ocean eyes continue staring at me like he’s searching beneath my pupils for something. Then, his gaze drops.
I feel air in parts of my body I shouldn’t, so I look down again.
See what he sees.
Shit!
The strap of my dress has slipped past my shoulder, sagging the material. It probably happened when I was trying to break free from his grip. Panicking, I flick the strap back up onto my shoulder, but it’s too late. He’s already seen the breast that was hanging out.
The nipple and everything.
I feel embarrassment crawl up my throat and heat my cheeks.
Oh my God.
As if this day couldn’t get any worse.
“Interesting strategy.” He stares there even after I fold the breast away.
I take the opportunity to bolt, but the hand re-locks around my wrist, and I spring back once more,defeated for the second time today. And if that’s not enough, the force loosens the strap, and it slides down my shoulder again. Thankfully, this time, the nipple remains under the material.
Dammit!
I go to fix the wardrobe malfunction, but the man’s powerful hands lock me in place, rendering me frozen. I try to shove him away, twist my body in the other direction to loosen the grip, but his strength is unyielding. I don’t even have time to take a breath before he picks me up and sweeps me away into another room, away from the hallway.
It takes my eyes a minute to adjust.
It’s darker in here, and I don’t know what this place has in store for me until I see the bed. Red velvet curtains have been drawn, and light penetrates weakly through them, giving the room a sort of ambient-brothel feel.
Fabulous. Sophia is about to marry a Russian serial killer, and his friend is about to—
“Hands up?”
“Excuse me?”
“So I can fix it properly. Unless you want to keep flashing the entire Bratva.”
