Ask the question.
He turned to face me, his bored blink and casual wave telling me to spill it.
Ask him.
“I was just wondering…”
Just ask. Say it.
Say ‘How much does Vik earn?’
“Yes,” Sasha prompted impatiently.
And although the question remained poised at the tip of my tongue, my stomach twisted with regret as I cleared my throat, shook my head and instead said, “I was wondering if you wanted to split dinner with me. I feel like Chinese but don’t want to eat alone.” He watched me guardedly, as though he knew that wasn’t what I was going to say originally. So, for good measure, I added, “Plus, I thought you could use the company.”
Coward.
My brother’s careful, slightly delayed response had me smiling softly. “Sure. I’d like that.”
As it turned out I could have used the company myself. Even if that company was Sasha.
13
Nastasia
I was going to fuck a bitch up.
As I kept peering up at the offending couple, my lips thinned, and I thought back on what I had done so badly in my short life that I was being punished like this.
I was a decent person. I didn’t lean one way or another, good or bad, but I minded my business when necessary and only got involved when required. Always spared a smile for children and the elderly. I ate well. I didn’t drink in excess. I hadn’t touched drugs since my twenties. Yeah, I had an attitude, but I was loyal, kindhearted, and generous to those closest to me. Brought up Russian Orthodox, I no longer followed any specific religion but never begrudged or ridiculed someone for their beliefs. I donated clothes and money to charity, sponsored a child in a third world country, and tried to do my part to be kinder to the environment.
Sure, I could have been nicer to people, but had you met some?
They sucked.
If I could wrap up my life in a neat little bow, I wasn’t a bad person, I hadn’t committed any real wrongs, and my family loved me.
So, why did life insist on being a rabid bitch to me?
My blood boiled as I seethed inwardly, my face the picture of calm. The music blared, and I glanced over at the stage as Bleeding Hearts’ own Diamond Dozen danced in their little sexy outfits. Anika slid past me, reaching over to grab a bottle of Patrón Gran Platinum, pouring the shots effortlessly. Tonight, she was dressed as a slutty Red Riding Hood. Our newest bar bitch, Francesca, moved around us in a flawless dance, taking orders as she went. The cowgirl costume she wore was so tiny the curve of her ass showed every time she reached up to retrieve liquor bottles off the top shelf.
I knew some women had a problem with how we were dressed, but my view was that it was only oppressive if you felt oppressed, and none of the girls here did. In fact, most of us felt empowered by the fact that we could make a man do just about anything we asked simply by flashing a dude an inch of skin.
Like a well-oiled machine, we worked seamlessly, and we got shit done.
It was a Friday night, and we’d be open until 2:00 a.m. It was busier than usual, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Our tips alone would be completely worth the excess ass grabs.
The apprehension in me had eased some, but knowing what I knew now, I understood that Vik would not be climbing into my bed this night. He would have to work ’til dawn, and that brought on mild angst within myself that I would just have to figure out on my own. I couldn’t be shielded by his arms forever.
The bar flap lifted, and Birdie, the bar manager, sashayed on in, taking an order without pause. Her brown skin shimmered in the low light, her cheekbones lighting up with every flash on stage. Her eyes drifted to where my laser vision was pointed. She poured a couple of whisky neats, took the customer’s money, then yelled over the music, “Rein it in, girl.”
My teeth were locked tight, and my eye was twitching.
I was trying, but it was hard.
As though he could feel me burning holes into the skull of the woman seated beside him, laughing openly and touching his forearm, his brow knotted, and he twisted his body, his gaze resting right on me. The moment his eyes met mine, I lowered them, but it didn’t matter. I was sure he’d seen me.
And, yeah. Maybe tonight wouldn’t have sucked so much if Fawn, one of the newest members of the Bleeding Hearts family, hadn’t casually stopped by the bar with her tray, an excited look on her face and an innocently happy “Isn’t Vik just the sweetest?”
Behind the bar, four sets of eyes turned on her, and the intensity in our matching gazes must have had an impact, because quite suddenly, Fawn’s smile fell.