“We’re in public.”
“You say that as if I care.” He folds his arms over his chest, another sign that he’s not going to move until I do as I’m told.
Muttering to myself, I turn around and lift the skirt of the black dress up to show him my bare ass. The second after the air-conditioned air touches my skin, his hand connects, instantly warming it. I yelp, then quickly drop my skirt and turn back around.
“Public,” I say, but he looks too damn pleased with himself to even hear me, I think.
“Okay, now we can go inside. Be a good girl, tonight, Charlotte, and when we get home, you’ll be richly rewarded.”
He pulls the door open, music flitters out, and the chattering of at least a hundred people fills the space between us.
Nikolai stops momentarily once we’re inside, then wrapping his arm around my waist, gently leads me to a table where his father and one of his brothers stands. The other guests are milling about, most of them are young—late teens, early twenties maybe.
“How old is this girl?” I ask.
“Anya? She’s turning twenty-one today,” he answers.
It’s obvious who the friends of the birthday girl are and who the associates of the family are by where they are placed in the room. Huddles of men in expensive suits are associates, and each one of them looks more dangerous than the next. I find myself stepping a little closer to Nikolai as we pass several tables of them.
“Nikolai!” his father greets us with a wide grin. “Ah, you brought Charlotte. Good to see you again.”
“Hello.” I’m unsure of how to act here. “Nice to see you, too.” I’m not family, I’m not remotely close to being a friend, but Igor looks at me as though he’s genuinely happy to see me here with Nikolai. I wonder if Nikolai has bothered to give his family the truth about me. Do they know that I’m only tethered to him for another nine days?
Nine days.
“Do you want something to drink?” Nikolai leans toward me with his question. By the looks of the banquet tables, we’ve missed dinner.
“A glass of wine. Something sweet.”
“I’ll be back.” He releases his hold on me and disappears toward the bar.
“Charlotte, have you met Ivan?” Igor steps closer to me, and gestures toward the man he’s been speaking with in Russian.
“No.” I smile at this new man, though something about him seems off. His gaze follows the room before he looks at me.
“Ivan, this is Charlotte. Nikolai’s girlfriend.”
“Oh, no.” I start to object to the term, but Ivan’s already stepping in my direction. “We aren’t, I mean, it’s not serious.”
“If Nikolai brought you to my daughter’s birthday party where all his friends and family are, then it’s serious enough,” Ivan says as he embraces me with a grin. His hands are cold against my bare arms.
“Oh, it’s your daughter?” I scan the room, but with all the people milling around and the dance floor filled, I can’t tell who the birthday girl is.
“She’s probably hiding with her friends somewhere. She doesn’t like all the attention these parties bring,” he explains. “I’m so sorry. I see my nephew has finally arrived. If you’ll excuse me.” He glances at Igor then hurries off through the crowd.
Nikolai hands me a glass of wine. “Where’s Ivan running off to?” he asks as he sips his drink, some sort of dark liquor.
“Host duties.” Igor waves a hand and turns to Arman and starts talking in Russian again.
Nikolai surveys the room and instantly the tension is back. His jaw locks, his body goes rigid. I can almost feel the heat of his anger rolling through him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, turning to follow his gaze. Ivan is across the ballroom talking with a young man. It’s an aggressive conversation. Every step Ivan takes forward makes the man retreat a step until they reach the entrance doors. Even I can see the redness of Ivan’s cheeks from where we are. He yanks the door open and the young man shrugs and stalks out.
Nikolai’s eyes are glued to the same scene. I link my hand into his and squeeze.
“Nikolai.”
A moment later, he blinks and it’s like a spell has been broken. “It’s nothing,” he answers.