“I’m serious. The place is swimming in pussy. Take your pick. Take two, in fact, but get your dick sucked already because I don’t think I can take much more of your grumpy ass.”
I scan the room, packed with Elio’s people. His soldiers, cousins, hangers-on, the kind of crowd that orbits every mafia family. Beautiful women drape themselves over men inexpensive suits, but none of them register. There’s only one woman I want, and she’s not here.
“The Baronov brothers actually showed up. I’m touched.” Elio approaches, all swagger and confidence, every bit the mafia prince on his birthday.
“You didn’t give us much choice,” I mutter.
He spreads his arms with a grin. “Enjoy yourself, Baronov. The night is young.” He signals a waitress for another round.
Matvey smirks. “We invited a few ladies from Velour we saw on the main floor of the club. Thought you’d appreciate the extra talent.”
“What the fuck did you do?” I hiss at Matvey. “We’re supposed to be keeping this alliance quiet. The last thing we need is our employees mixing with Valenti’s crew, spreading rumors about how tight we are with the Italians.”
But my brothers are too drunk to care.
“Consider it our birthday gift to you,” Dem says, raising his glass at Elio.
“Kirill!” The shrill cry cuts through the music. Rada materializes at my side in a red dress cut so low the edge of her nipples is visible. “I hoped you’d be here tonight.”
I shoot Matvey a look that promises retribution. He knows Rada’s been after me for months. He invited her anyway, the asshole.
My brother grins and makes a crude gesture, mouthing, “You need to get laid.”
“Rada.” I keep my tone civil but cool. She works for me, which means I can’t be outright rude, but I’m not going to lead her on. “Enjoying the party?”
“I am now.” She closes the distance between us, and her cloying perfume settles around me. “You’ve been so busy lately. I feel like I never see you anymore.”
“I’ve been busy.”
My brothers scatter toward the bar where Elio’s handing out shots like a tattooed Santa wielding a bottle of Stoli instead of a sack of toys.
“Not too busy for a little fun.” Her finger trails over my bicep, nails scraping lightly. The contact makes my skin crawl. “You work too hard, Kirill. You need to relax. Let someone take care of you.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. She might as well have a neon sign flashing “fuck me” above her head.
Rada’s beautiful in the most uninteresting of ways. Perfectly styled hair, a forehead frozen smooth and lips pumped well past natural, body honed through hours at the gym. In my younger years, I would’ve taken her to a private room and emptied my balls inside her without thinking twice.
But looking at her now, all I see is everything she lacks.
She’s not interesting or surprising or genuine. She’s a puck bunny for the mafia set, chasing my net worth and status. She couldn’t care less who I am under this suit.
“You look tense.” She presses closer, her breasts brushing against my arm. “Dance with me.”
“I was just heading out,” I say, checking my watch like I've got somewhere important to be.
She pouts. “Come on. Just one song. I came here to see you.”
I step back, but Rada moves with me, persistent. Her hand lands on my chest, fingers splaying over my heart.
Across the room, a flash of blonde hair stops me cold.
“Who are you here with?” I ask, cutting off whatever she was saying.
“Oksana, Yeva, Klara, and…” Her expression sours. “The new girl.”
Evelina.
By the bar, a cluster of people shifts to reveal her.
