“Tierney,” he rasped.
“Alex.”
“How have you been?” he asked in Russian.
And though I hadn’t spoken the language in many, many years, the answer slipped past my lips naturally. “It’s been a long, pleasant walk in the park. You?”
He grinned. “Same.”
“Don’t flirt with her,” Achilles barked at Alex, hammering his whiskey glass on the table.
“How do you know I’m flirting?” Alex raised his vodka to his lips, one side of his mouth curling in amusement.
“Your goddamn eyes are an open invitation.”
“Don’t worry, honey.” I patted Achilles’s lap. “I have a strict no-Russian-men policy.” I leaned to kiss the tattoo of my lips on his neck.
Ignoring me, Achilles reached for his whiskey and gulped it in one go. I quirked an eyebrow. It was unlike him not to pace himself, but I guessed everyone was on edge today.
“Where’s that fucker Hale?” Achilles turned his attention back to Alex.
“Running late.” Alex flicked his wrist to frown at his Cartier. “But he’ll be here for the after-dinner drinks.”
“With his mask off?” Achilles poured himself a second glass of whiskey.
Alex smiled leniently. “I suggest you put that whiskey down. You’re not Russian, Achilles. You lack the capacity to hold such a drink.”
“And I suggest you stick to your business,” Achilles retorted in the same pleasant tone. “That’s a nice face you’ve got there. I’d hate to ruin it.”
“What the fuck is Rothwell doing in the club?” Enzo turned to look at Luca, breaking the tension between the other two men. “He said you invited him?”
“I’m trying to recruit him.” Luca handed his menu back to the waiter.
“And you think he’ll bite?” Achilles snapped his head to his brother.
“I think we can’t afford not to try.” Luca cocked an eyebrow. “With Dad out of the picture, we need a new wave of dirty feds to do our bidding.”
The rest of the dinner was relatively pleasant. Or at least, pain free. The food was delicious—bourbon-glazed salmon and truffled salads—and the alcohol was great. Conversation flowed, and I actually managed to relax. Dessert came and went, and still no sign of Hale.
Achilles did hit the whiskey bottle harder than I’d ever seen him before, but I couldn’t fault him for it.
When everyone retired to the bar, Achilles squeezed my thigh and leaned to whisper into my ear, “I’m going to check the security footage. See if Hale is planning a surprise.”
I nodded and joined Lila and Sofia on their way to the bar. The entire length of the way, I felt Alex’s gaze heating my skin from behind. I threw a glance behind my shoulder. He was walking with Luca, Enzo, and Jeremie.
At some point, he broke away from them and joined us women.
“Tierney, may I have a word?” His English was crisp and lightly accented with Russian.
“You may have a few, but I doubt any of them would interest me.” I yawned into the back of my hand.
Sofia and Lila giggled and headed to the bar, leaving us standing at the threshold. Traitors.
He wore a navy suit, the first buttons of his shirt undone, revealing smooth, bronze skin and sculpted pecs. He looked like a movie star, always had, and never made a big deal out of it. When I left Siberia at fourteen, he was already a big hit with the girls. And even though I’d been too busy surviving to pay him my full attention, even I wasn’t immune to his charms.
He was still not my type, though. I didn’t trust men who were prettier than me.
“What’s going on?” I parked my hands on my waist. I didn’t want Achilles to see us together. He’d made it quite clear he was jealous.
