Lucky bachelor number… whatever he was. My head was beginning to ache, and I couldn’t remember how many self-important bastards had fawned over her earlier on the mainland. All of them blended together in a muddy pool of horse shit.
This one wasn’t like the others though, who had obviously been chosen for money and not their looks. This guy was older than Katya by at least ten years and he was built. At least as big as me and Alex, with close-cropped black hair and manicured eyebrows. He was definitely Katya’s type and my gut churned with the alcohol I’d been drinking all day. He flicked a glance at me as I approached with Miss Nameless on my arm. It was a cursory, careless look of dark blue eyes, telling me that he already knew I wasn’t important enough to impress.Asshole.He seemed familiar too, but fuck if I could place him.
“Nikolai, so glad you could join us,” Evelina greeted me. “I’m sure you remember Viktor Turgenev. He brokered the Turkish deal.” She was always sweet, even when she was nagging me. And, to her credit, she didn’t so much as glance oddly at my escort.
“Of course, I remember. And I am always glad to have dinner with the family.” I nodded. Viktor Turgenev. Of course. What an absolute dick he’d been, treated the soldiers like trash during the deal. But he was also powerful, and dangerous. A man almost as dangerous as Eduard.
Miss Nameless beside me stiffened, obviously aware that she was underdressed compared to the others at the table. The Bratva reeked of money, in a subtle classy way. Miss Nameless reeked of liquor and smoke.
She leaned in, whispering nervously. “Um, I think maybe I should find something else to wear.”
“How?” I muttered dismissively. “Private island. There’s a boutique, if you’ve got a couple thousand for a dress,” I replied brusquely, making it obvious that I wasn’t buying her a new dress.
Her face paled, and she shook her head quickly.
I should have felt like a bastard for that, but I was drunk and pissed off and really didn’t want to be here, so I felt nothing. Except for that goddamn twinge in my skull.
“You’re fine.” I didn’t sound very comforting, but I didn’t care.
Fine, yes, she was fine. Only fine. She wasn’t beautiful or extraordinary. She didn’t challenge me or make me laugh. She wasn’t witty or smart. She was just fine.
I pulled a seat out for her, and she sat, obviously trying to pull her shorts down lower and cage her breasts better under the thin stretchy swimsuit material.
“And you are?” Katya asked accidentally, staring at my innocent date. For a second, I almost did feel bad.
But… nah. All was fair in love and ticking off Katya.
“We just met actually,” Miss Nameless gave a small smile, trying to win over the table. Poor thing. It was a losing battle from the second she walked in. She could dress better, paint herself fresh, and she’d still be lower class than the Vasilievs.
Same as me.No matter what I did, I was still just a soldier, like Katya said.
“She’s great, isn’t she?” I sat down, slinging an arm over the woman from the bar and winking at Katya.
“Sure… great,” she said sullenly, and then turned to her date. “Viktor, tell me again what you do?” She perched her elbow against the satin tablecloth and rested her chin lightly on her fingers. “It’s fascinating.”
In a deep baritone, Viktor launched into an explanation of hostile takeovers, bitcoin, and the bliss that was real Turkish Delight. Katya leaned in, pretending to listen intently, but I knew better.
This was all for show.
I pulled the bar woman towards me, not caring that her body pushed uncomfortably against the chair’s arm, and kissed her deeply on the mouth, letting my tongue dance with hers and putting on my own damn show.
It was Alex that stopped me, kicking me under the table and then giving me a ‘what the fuck’ look when I separated from Miss Nameless to quirk an eyebrow at him. I shrugged, and Alex jerked his head to one side before excusing himself from the table and squeezing Marisha’s shoulder gently in reassurance that everything was fine.
I rolled my eyes. Goddamn pussy whipped.
I stood though, knowing that Alex intended for me to chase him. That was my life, perpetually chasing a fucking Vasiliev child.
“What?” I mumbled angrily when we were far enough from the table not to be heard.
“What? Seriously? You bring that woman here to a dinner that you know is important, and then you make a scene like that in front of my mother. My mother, who treats you like her own child.”
“Sure she does,” I retorted, crossing my arms and steeling myself for a lecture.
Alex, though, became quiet and looked at me. “Nik, what the hell is up with you?”
“Nothing,” I barked defensively, “can we just go back to dinner?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m going back to dinner. You’re taking that woman out of this restaurant.”
