All of them turn to look at me like they’re trying to figure out what I have that they don’t. Whatever he saw in me, desire doesn’t follow logic.
The electricity crackling between us was undeniable and explosive, the kind of thing that could become a serious problem if I let it.
But I won’t.
“Danny promised me an audition, but he had that family emergency. I suppose Kirill took pity on me.”
Rada’s laugh is more of a scoff. “Right, because Kirill’s the charitable type. An everyday Mother Teresa.” She crosses her arms and narrows her stare. “I’d like to know exactly what you did during this audition.”
“I danced. Same as every other woman who auditions here, I assume.”
I give Rada a hard glare because I’m getting tired of her territorial bullshit. If she knew the truth, I’m sure her head would explode.
That’s why it’s good she’ll never know what really happened. No one will.
Klara’s eyebrows rise toward her hairline as she blots at her lipstick. “Wait. You auditioned for Kirill as a dancer, but he gave you a job serving drinks?”
I shrug. “I guess there was an opening for a server, not a dancer.”
“I don’t want you dancing for anyone else.”
I won’t read too much into his possessive declaration. I’m sure it was post-ejaculation promises, the kind of thing men say when their brains are still flooded with sex endorphins.
Rada shoots me the hardest glare her Botoxed forehead will allow. “Just so you know, I’ve been vibing with Kirill the last few months. Everyone here knows we’re going to hook up; it’s only a matter of time.”
I’m starting to get it now. Kirill Baronov is the prize every woman here is competing for, and I won a round without even knowing we were playing. But the only thing I want from Kirill, or from any of the Baronovs, is information. And maybe revenge.
Yeva snorts and elbows her friend. “Come on, Rads. He’s probably engaged to some mafia princess and has a rotation of women on the side. He lives in a different stratosphere than us. The man doesn’t even touch the strippers, and our tits and ass are in his face every day.”
The image of Kirill with a revolving door of women sends a flicker of irritation through me that I have no business feeling.
As I’m gathering up my things, Oksana pushes through the door. Her attention shifts from me to my little welcome committee.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I breaking up your little party here?”
Rada’s smile is brittle. “Nah, we were explaining the lay of the land to the new girl.”
Oksana groans. “Her name is Evelina, and I know exactly what you were doing. Staking your claim on Kirill.”
Rada lifts a shoulder. “It’s not my fault we have chemistry.”
“Dream on, girl. Keep telling yourself that.” Oksana’s gaze lands on me, giving stern-but-kind teacher energy. “You ready?”
I nod and wave to the group. At least Klara and Yeva seem nice.
“Don’t mind Rada,” Oksana says, as soon as we step out of the change room. She’s moving at a brisk pace, and I have to quicken my steps to keep up. “She only works here to meet a rich husband. And of course, the Baronovs are the biggest prize.She’s jealous. You’re new, you’re pretty, and you caught Kirill’s attention, something she’s never managed to do.”
An odd wave of relief washes through me.
“I wasn’t trying to get Kirill’s attention for anything other than a job.”
“And you did, so let’s make sure you know how to do that job.” She leads me behind the bar and brings up a screen on the tablet mounted near the register. “Ready for the grand tour?”
“Absolutely.”
Nerves flutter in my stomach. I’m usually tucked away behind a computer in a dark room, fingers flying over keyboards, invisible. This whole serve, smile-and-be-charming thing is outside my comfort zone.
But hell, if I can crack military-grade encryption, I can figure out how to carry a tray without dropping it.
