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His sense of humor, which usually irritated me, had loosened over dinner, shifting from the usual brand of provocation to something dangerously close to charm. He’d even gotten a few chuckles out of me. Quiet ones, quick to die on my tongue. Because every time I started to relax, I remembered his ridiculous threat on top of the roof. That he’d either kill me or fuck me.

And it wasn’t the former that made my stomach flutter.

Yuriy walked around like a man with a big dick and proof to back it. What unsettled me wasn’t that he flaunted it, but that my curiosity twitched at the thought.

By the end of dinner, I’d become more familiar with him than I ever wanted to be. He genuinely cared about his brother and had devoted his life to raising him. And if he’d raised a young man who loved my daughter and protected her the way Zasha did, he must have some good qualities.

Deep down.

Way down.

“First round’s on me, boys.” Yuriy waved over the bartender, a good-looking man with a pierced upper lip. The man swept his gaze over Yuriy, apparently saw something he liked, and grinned.

I frowned, my mouth tasting bitter despite not having had a sip yet. The last thing I needed tonight was to watch Yuriy flirt with the bartender.

I shouldn’t have let Yelena coax me into going out with the brothers, but she’d pulled me aside after I’d turned them down and begged me to take the opportunity to get to know the brothers more. The way she’d said please, eyes shining the same way they had when she was a little girl asking for ice cream, had gutted my resolve.

I still couldn’t say no to her.

“What made you choose Kansas City?” I asked Zasha, more to fill the quiet between us and make an effort for Yelena’s sake than genuinely wanting to know.

Zasha scratched the back of his head and grinned sheepishly. “Actually, we were trying to get to Phoenix. Yelena wanted somewhere with lots of sunshine, but we underestimated the cost and only made it to Missouri. We only meant to spend a couple of years here at most before heading out, but we ended up falling in love with how much calmer it is here.”

“I see.”

The town was less noisy than Chicago. I hadn’t felt the urge to watch over my shoulder since we arrived. For the first time in years, I went anywhere without a bodyguard in plain sight.

I can’t allow myself to get too used to this. In two weeks, it’ll be over.

The bartender approached our end of the bar, all smiles and easy charm. His gaze locked on Yuriy the way moths went for open flame. “What can I get you?” He leaned his elbows on the bar, too close, too interested.

Yuriy’s grin turned appreciative. “Depends,” he said, voice dropping a shade lower. “Got any specials you’d recommend?”

The bartender’s eyes dipped to Yuriy’s mouth. “Something strong for sure. Why don’t I introduce you to The Dirty Claus? It’s strong, sweet, and will leave you craving more.”

“Sounds sinful. What’s in it?”

“Vodka, coffee liqueur, crème de cacao, and a splash of peppermint cream.”

“Perfect.” Yuriy dragged his tongue over his bottom lip, watching the bartender’s eyes follow the motion. “Sweet, creamy, and guaranteed to make a mess? Sounds like my kind of Christmas tradition.”

The shameless slut.

The bartender laughed softly, leaning a little closer over the counter. “Well, don’t forget to pace yourself. The night is young.”

“It is indeed,” Yuriy murmured.

I didn’t realize I’d gone still until the sound of Zasha clearing his throat snapped me out of it. Yuriy drew closer, whispering something that made the bartender’s face split into a grin. The man turned to pour his drink.

“Thought you were buying the rest of us drinks too?” I muttered. “Not trying to stick your tongue down a stranger’s throat.”

Yuriy didn’t even look at me, his gaze still fixed on the bartender, which irked. “Hold your horses, Zhukovsky. What’s wrong with a bit of tongue diplomacy? I play my cards right, I can get all our drinks for free tonight.”

“You’re vile.” He could afford to pay for drinks without leading the bartender on.

Zasha drummed his fingers on the bar counter, his brows creased in a frown. “Yuriy’s sexuality doesn’t bother you, does it? Because he’s never hidden that he likes…all flavors.”

I curled my hand into a fist. “I have no problem with his sexuality. But does he have to be so…”