“You heard me.” She runs her eyes over me, looking more and more pissed with each passing second. “I know you’re one of those Russian bastards. I can hear your damn accent. Now, tell me what you want and then get the fuck out of my club.”
I’m so shocked it takes me a second before I can speak. Even after being in America for so long, I’ve never managed to lose my accent completely, but why the hell does she care, and just who the fuck is she?
“What do you mean your club?”
She gives me a smug grin that doesn’t even come close to reaching her eyes. For one brief second, I wonder what her face would look like all lit up in a genuine smile. I want to see it, and that shocks the hell out of me.
“This place is mine now,” she says, resting a hand on her slim hip, directing my eyes to the bare stretch of tanned skin peeking out from the open sides of her bibs.
“Wait, what?”
“You heard me.”
“You’re Paddy’s granddaughter?”
“Moira O’Connor.”
She doesn’t offer me her hand to shake.
“But you don’t have an accent,” I say, kicking myself for sounding like an idiot.
“Wow, you are one hell of a super sleuth. My parents were born in Ireland, but I was born and raised in America.”
I’m torn between being pissed off at her rude, disrespectful tone and being so turned on I can barely think.
“And you are?”
“I’m Nikolai Sokolov. I work at the Red Wolf.”
“Yeah, no shit. I figured that one out all on my own.” She looks around at the absolute mess surrounding us. “Look, I’ve got a lot of work to get done, so why don’t you just tell me why you’re here so I can get back to it?”
“I came here to meet you and to find out what your plans are for the club?”
“Why do you care?”
Her other hand is still latched on to the sledgehammer, and for one brief second I think she might actually hit me with it.
“We’ve always had dealings with the Irish club. It’s only natural that I’d want to know what’s going on now that the ownership has changed hands.”
“You mean you want to know if there’s going to be more illegal fighting and betting?”
She lifts a dark brow and studies me, waiting for my response, but I don’t talk about my side business with people I don’t trust, and I sure as hell don’t trust this little hellcat. When I don’t say anything and meet her silence with my own, she finally relents and looks away.
“Look, I don’t know how my grandad ran this club, and I don’t care. This place is mine now, and I’m not in to any of that shady shit, so you can just keep your Bratva ass on your side of town, and I’ll stay on mine.”
“I’m not with the Bratva,” I say, getting more and more pissed off with each passing second. “You’ve got some nerve insulting me like this.”
She actually has the gall to laugh and take a step closer. “You don’t scare me, Nikolai.” Reaching a hand out, she runs it over my suit jacket. I try my best to ignore the slight pressure against my chest from her touch and the fact that she’s close enough for me to see the different shades of green in her eyes and the light dusting of freckles on her cheeks. “I’m not terrified of guys that drool.”
I look down and see the drool stain that Sergei left on me.
Fucking hell, cute little Sergei!
I lift my head, refusing to give her the satisfaction of looking embarrassed or satisfying her curiosity with an explanation.
“Or maybe that’s from the trail of women who follow you around like little puppy dogs.”
“Someone been checking up on me?” I ask, giving her a smirk.