“Liya Bernadetti.” Her eyes get so wide that I’m afraid they’ll swell into balloons and float away. “Are you telling me that you’re avirgin?”
“Please don’t make this a bigger deal than it has to be.”
“I’ve been your best friend for four years and somehow this slipped my attention.” Willow smiles at me deviously. “Of course this is going to be a big deal. Besides, it’s not too late to let loose a little. When does Jonas expect you home?”
I shrug. “He knows sometimes I stay an extra hour.”
“Tell you what.” She smirks and nods behind me. “I know you said last call, but give me two shots.”
“Dmitri is going to be furious if I serve—”
She slaps two twenties on the bar. “Two shots. Keep the change.”
Without arguing, my hands pour two shots of vodka and slide them over. Willow lifts them, turns around, and walks toward the handsome stranger with purpose. She collides with him, spills one of the shots on herself, and laughs at her own apparent clumsiness. Before he has a chance to react, she turns toward me, then back at him, and mouths something out of earshot before winking in my direction.
No…
The stranger observes me quietly for a moment, a smirk subtly playing on his face.
No. No. No!
With purposeful steps, he approaches the bar.
Goddamn it!What kind of trouble did Willow just get me into?
Chapter Two
Pavel
A clumsy girl collides with me, spilling liquor on herself as she forces a giggle. The three brigadiers accompanying me step forward, ready to act as she steadies herself and extends the un-spilled shot.
She points toward the bar, winking. “On the house from the bartender.”
The bartender smiles sheepishly. I didn’t notice her when I walked in, but now that I see her, I’m drawn to her bashful appearance. She twirls a lock of dark brown hair streaked with caramel highlights around her delicate finger, quickly glaring at the clumsy girl at my left before returning her amber eyes—fraught with worry—to me.
Usually I don’t spare mousy girls like her a second look. But there’s something about her shy demeanor that draws me in. So, I accept the shot without breaking eye contact with her, and walk purposefully toward her with my brigadiers following closely behind.
I’m aware of how intimidating my presence is, and I’m using it to my advantage, practically making this chick shake with fear.
She shrinks back as I approach. It’s almost adorable.
And it makes me want to strike like a viper cornering its prey.
A smirk hooks on my lips as I lean against the counter to set the shot between us. I stare at her for a few moments, studying her expanding pupils and the soft, light tan skin free of blemishes and tattoos. She’s wearing a black tank top, jeans with an apron around her waist, and a gold necklace with the letterL.
When my eyes roam back to her face, she almost looks startled, but a steely look passes over her features, and then she looks like any other bartender I’ve ever seen.
But I know she’s frightened. I can sense it in her. I can practically smell it on her.
“You sent this for me?” I gesture at the shot. “Without even knowing what I like? Bold.”
She shrugs nonchalantly. “Hey, you don’t have to have it.”
“I assume the other shot was for you.”
“Was.”
I chuckle. “You could just pour yourself another, right?”