I take it from her, running my fingers over the butter-soft leather. “This is gorgeous.”
“So?” Oksana takes it from me and holds it up, tilting her head critically. “What do you say? Live a little. Dance. Drink overpriced cocktails. Flirt with some American boys.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
Rada makes a noise that might be a scoff, but when I glance over, she’s reapplying her lipstick in the mirror.
Whatever. I’m not here for her approval.
“Yes!” Klara claps her hands together. “This is going to be so fun.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m zipped into Yeva’s dress. It’s so tight I can barely breathe, hugging every curve, and the strapless cut shows off my shoulders and the upper half of my tattoo sleeve. The hem hits mid-thigh, shorter than I’d normally wear, but damn, I look good.
“Holy shit,” Klara breathes, circling me like a sculpture she’s appraising. “You look smoking hot.”
“Agreed.” Oksana appears beside me with a makeup palette. “Now sit. Let me do your eyes.”
I settle onto the bench while she works, lining my eyes with kohl and sweeping dark shadow across my lids. Yeva takes over my hair, pulling it from its ponytail and working texturizing product through the strands until they fall in tousled waves around my shoulders.
“There.” Oksana steps back to admire her handiwork. “Perfection.”
I turn to the mirror, stunned by the transformation. The kohl makes my eyes look hooded and mysterious. The dress nips in at my waist before flaring over my hips, and cleavage spills over the tight bodice.
I thought I looked pretty good the night of my audition, but this is the sexiest I’ve ever felt.
Rada appears behind us in the reflection, expression pinched as she looks me over. “Can we go already? The bouncer I know is only there until two, and if we want to skip that insane line, we need to leave now.”
Yeva grabs her clutch. “Let’s go break some hearts, ladies.”
Apollon’s main floor is a sea of bodies and bass, the music so loud it pulses through my bones. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.
We’ve been dancing for what feels like hours, moving from one song to the next without stopping, and somewhere along the way I stopped overthinking and surrendered to the music.
Klara grabs my hand and spins me, both of us laughing as I nearly trip in the borrowed heels. Oksana’s got her arms in the air, completely lost in the rhythm. Even Rada seems to be having a good time, though she’s been collecting phone numbers from guys all night like she’s building a contact list.
The others have been drinking steadily, but I nursed one vodka soda early on and switched to water after. Old habits from my training. Stay alert. Never let my guard down. None of it matters tonight. I’m riding the high of a fun night out.
The song shifts to something slower and we drift off the dance floor, collapsing around a high-top table near the edge of the crowd. Klara fans herself with her hand, while Yeva orders another round of shots from a passing server.
“This is exactly what I needed,” Klara says, leaning back against the table. “My feet will hate me tomorrow, but it was so worth it.”
“Agreed.” Oksana’s face is flushed from dancing, as she ties her hair into a bun. “We should do this more often. Blow off steam after work.”
Warmth blooms in my chest at being part of “we,” like I’ve crossed an invisible threshold from new girl to friend.
Light flashes across the table as Oksana’s phone screen lights up. She picks it up, squinting at the message, eyebrows shooting up.
“Holy shit. Matvey Baronov just invited us to a party in the VIP area.”
“What?” Klara practically lunges for the phone. “Show me.”
Oksana turns her phone so we can see:
Matvey: Spotted you and your girls on the dance floor. Come up to VIP, second level. Party’s better up here.
A thrill runs through me. If Matvey’s here, maybe Kirill is too.
“Oh my God, where is he?” Yeva’s already scanning the upper level.
