White Nights (White Nights 1)

Alex narrows his eyes. Standing there with his bulging muscles and intimidating stare, he looks more like the devil than a man.

“You’re not welcome,” he says harshly to Phillip. “I suggest you leave while you still can.”

Ignoring Alex, Phillip says, “Fine, Kate, but whatever is going on between the two of you, you’d better deal with it before you decide to go on another date.”

At the word date, Alex balls his hands at his sides.

“I’m really sorry.” I’m repeating the same words over and over, but what else can I say?

Phillip takes a few bills from his pocket and leaves them on the table. “So am I.”

“No, please.” I push the bills back to him. “It’s on me. It’s the least I can do.”

Phillip gives me a lopsided smile and pushes the bills back. “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, would it?”

Directing his attention to me, Alex asks with a growl, “Are you done?”

“Wait.” I catch Phillip’s sleeve when he makes for the exit, earning another dark look and flaring nostrils from Alex. “Please don’t mention this to my mom. I don’t want to worry her about anything. She’s got enough on her plate.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Phillip says. “I’m not the spiteful kind.”

With a last look in Alex’s direction, he leaves the bar. It’s only then that I allow my anger to erupt.

“What were you thinking?” I whisper-scream, aware of the eyes of everyone in the bar on us.

Taking my coat from the hook, Alex holds it open for me. I yank the coat from his hands and pull it on myself before stomping out of the bar without looking to see if he’s following. I smell like wine, my dress and underwear are soaked with it, and my blood is boiling with anger. He catches up with me by the exit, grabbing my arm and holding the door for me like a gentleman, which he isn’t.

I pull on his hold, but he tightens his fingers and pushes me toward the black car waiting at the curb.

“No,” I say, yanking on his hold again. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“We’re going to talk about this,” he says through clenched teeth. “There are things I need to say to you.”

I hang back. “Good, because there are things I need to say as well, but we’ll say them right here.”

He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “It’s cold. Get in the car.”

I’ve had enough. “You don’t tell me what to do.”

“Radi boga, Katerina. Why are you being so hardheaded?”

“Me?” I exclaim. “You’re the one who won’t give up.”

“Because we’re not done.” His voice is low, laced with intent. “Not by a long shot.”

“That’s your opinion.”

“Yes,” he says, pulling me toward the car again. “That’s exactly my opinion.”

People stop and stare. Someone even takes out a phone to record our fight, but no one does a thing when Alex lifts me effortlessly into his arms and carries me kicking and protesting to his car. He lowers me to my feet, holding me prisoner against his chest with one arm while opening the back door. Cell phones flash as he deposits me like a parcel onto the back seat before shifting in next to me.

Shutting the door so hard the whole car shakes, he says something in Russian to Yuri, who shoots me a cutting look from over his shoulder before he steers the car into the traffic.

“Fuck,” Alex says, dragging a hand through his short hair. “We did not need the scene you made out there.”

My jaw drops. “If you hadn’t kidnapped me, I wouldn’t have needed to make a scene.” I cross my arms. “Where are you taking me?”

“Home,” he says evenly.

“I’m not going to your place.”

“To your place then.”

I don’t argue. I need to get home anyway. “You’re not coming inside.”

He gives me a flat smile. “We’ll see.”

Ugh. He’s insufferable. “If I’d known you were like this, I never would’ve agreed to go out with you.”

“You prefer your men to be soft, like Phillip?” His lips curl around the name as if it’s something distasteful.

“You had no right to treat Phillip like that. He’s a nice guy who’s done nothing to you.”

His eyes gleam as he pins me with a stare. “He touched you. I’ve cut off men’s fingers for less than that.” The corner of his mouth lifts in something that resembles a smile, but it’s far from friendly. His accent is more pronounced when he continues. “I treated him rather kindly, all things considered.”

The part about cutting off fingers should shock me, but it doesn’t. Deep inside, I know what this dangerous Russian is capable of. Igor didn’t take a bullet for him for nothing. Alex’s life involves violence. I bet his business is shady.

“What?” he taunts. “Aren’t you going to thank me for sparing your soft boy’s pampered fingers?”