Page 99 of Bleed with Me

“I don’t enjoy being touched by men I don’t know.” My cold gaze jumped between them. “Call a woman.”

The guards exchanged a glance, but before either could respond, Lucas straightened beside me. The subtle change in his posture made me turn toward the elevators, my stomach knotting when I saw why.

Malin Zhumagulov appeared near the elevators as if the shadows decided to take human form. He approached us without a sound. Black suit, black gloves, deadly expression, everything on him was designed to underline the lethal aura surrounding him. His empty brown eyes, a shade or two darker than Dorian’s, settled on me, every instinct in my body screaming danger.

“Well, well, well.” Malin’s deep, menacing voice bounced off the walls as he stopped beside the security guards. “What a nice surprise.”

“It’s hardly a surprise, Mr. Zhumagulov.” I cast him my best innocent smile, immediately choosing attack over pleasantries. “Considering how invested you’ve been in my life lately.”

Lucas inhaled sharply, and Malin’s eyes narrowed a tiny bit. One corner of his mouth twitched, barely noticeable. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he'd fought a smile.

“Careful.” His gaze dragged slowly along my face. “My attention comes with a price.”

A chill crawled down my spine, but I tilted my head lightly as if we were discussing the weather and not the fact that he’d been dissecting my life piece by piece.

“I’m just flattered by your interest.” I threw my hair over my shoulder and raised a brow at him. Not a challenge, just a message that I wouldn’t let him win easily.

“Okay,” Lucas muttered, forcing out a nervous laugh. “This sounds like foreplay between serial killers.”

Neither of us looked at him. Malin’s focus stayed glued to me with terrifying intensity. Something deeply unnatural about the way he watched people, like he peeled skin away and studied whatever hid beneath.

“I wonder,” he mused, “do you enjoy making bad decisions, Miss Valentino, or are you simply incapable of recognizing danger?”

My pulse kicked harder.

“That depends,” I replied smoothly. “Are you referring to tonight or to my actions in general?”

Lucas made a strangled sound while Malin went completely still. Not a mimic muscle moved on his face. For one horrifying second, I genuinely thought I’d pushed too far, but then his gaze fell to the bracelet on my wrist, and he smirked.

“Garrote wire?” The words rolled out of his tongue like a curse. My stomach dropped into my shoes, and Lucas turned toward me so fast I almost heard his neck crack.

“Nina,” he whispered through gritted teeth, “please tell me you didn’t bring your special toys.”

I ignored him. Malin’s expression remained unreadable as he extended one gloved hand toward me.

“Purse, please,” he said in an unnaturally soft voice.

Every muscle in my body screamed not to hand him anything. Still, refusing Malin Zhumagulov sounded like an excellent way to end up dead before dessert.

Slowly, I placed the clutch into his hand. His fingers moved with unnerving calm as he opened it and inspected the contents. Lipstick. Phone. Compact mirror. Keys. And…

A second later, he pulled out the small pearl-handled gun.

“That’s just an accessory,” Lucas tried to save the situation. “Look at her outfit. A perfect black cat ener—”

Malin cut him off with a sharp, unexpected movement, pointing my gun at him. Lucas instinctively pulled out his silver semi-automatic pistol, aiming at his chest. Six men arose from the shadows, all armed and deadly, joining their boss against us.

Malin smirked arrogantly, while Lucas was visibly nervous, but his hand stayed still, firmly gripping the gun that had felt like an extension of his arm for as long as I could remember. I looked around, assessing whether I could take down at least one giant before the mayhem Malin would unleash on us.

“Accessory, huh?” Malin inspected my gun, disturbing my thoughts. “You’re just like her, Mr. Colapino.” He stopped aiming at Lucas, but his men didn’t move. “I considered you smarter.”

Lucas’s lips turned into a snarl as he glared at him. His father spent years putting him down. Mocking Lucas’s intelligence was the fastest way to get under his skin.

“It goes both ways,” he hissed, anger written in every inch of his beautiful face. His fingers tightened around the handle, my instincts kicking in to prevent disaster—because Malin looked at him like he had just decided which train to hell he would send him on.

“It’s just a small gun,” I interjected, but none of them reacted. They stared each other down like boxers before a match.

“Lucas.” I placed my hand on his forearm and pushed lightly so he would stop aiming at Malin, but he didn’t react.