The Bookie (Chicago Bratva 6)

I look over as Nikolai’s friends from the penthouse suite pour in. Oleg came in with the band, of course, but Sasha, a highly-entertaining redhead and her husband, Maxim, arrive. Adrian follows, with his sister, Nadia, who looks more than a little frightened to be here. When Flynn waves to her from where he’s setting up on stage, she freezes in place, and looks behind her, as if to see if he’s waving to someone else.

Flynn gets on the mic. “Nadia’s in the house,” he says, waving again.

A shy smile breaks out on her face. I haven’t known her for long, but it’s the first time I’ve seen her look anything but haunted. She lifts her fingers in a tiny wave.

Ravil and Lucy, Nikolai’s boss and his wife, didn’t come tonight because of their baby Benjamin, but Nikolai suspects they also stayed home because they’re happy to have the penthouse to themselves for a change.

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve gotten to know them all more. We’ve hung out in the penthouse to watch movies or share meals, and I had them down to Nikolai’s for Sunday brunch a couple times. Dima and his girlfriend Natasha are often here on weekends, but they won’t be here tonight, since it’s mid-week.

The band starts up, keeping it more mellow than usual to go with the earlier happy hour vibe. Their regular fans, who we lured over from Rue’s, love the change-up and cheer accordingly after each song.

I see Derek standing beside Shanna enjoying the music, and they both shoot me a thumbs-up.

When the song ends, Story gets on the mic. “Thank you all so much for coming out to see us and to the Red Room for hosting. This is our first gig here, and we’re having an awesome time.”

The crowd cheers.

“We also wanted to thank our friend Chelle for setting this up. Chelle, where are you?”

I wave my hand in the air.

“There she is, everyone. Somebody buy her a drink!”

Nikolai raises his hand and nods, and I laugh. He catches Shanna’s attention, and she comes over with my usual dirty martini.

“This is fun!” she says as she hands it to me. “You did a great job. Derek loves the new crowd.”

“Awesome.” I pick up the toothpick of olives absently and realize it has a bow tied on the end. “What is this?”

Shanna gives me a wink and disappears to wait on someone else.

“What is this?” I repeat to Nikolai, stroking my fingers down the delicate ribbon ends.

His lips twitch.

“Did you do this?” I tug one of the ends and the bow unravels, dropping a delicate gold ring onto the bar. I gasp. “Oh! Is this from you?”

A thin slip of paper is wrapped around the ring. I unwrap it and flatten it on the bar. Something is written in cyrillic letters.

I twist to look at Nikolai, whose expression is inscrutable. “What does it say?”

“Ty moya,” he says, the corners of his lips curving up.

My heart beats faster as I examine the ring. It’s both delicate and spectacular at the same time, with a thin band and six diamonds in a row. I slip it on the ring finger of my right hand and turn to face him fully, placing my hands on his sturdy chest. “What does that mean?”

He smirks. “You’re mine.” He takes the ring off my right hand and puts it on my left.

I laugh as giddy thrills of excitement bounce through me. “Is this your way of proposing?”

He nods. “Da.”

“Do I have a say in it?”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling, his gaze locked on mine. “Nyet.”

“Well,” I murmur. “I guess you’d better kiss me then.”

Nikolai moves in quickly, cupping my face and claiming my mouth in the kind of kiss I feel directly between my legs.

I hear a cheer go up behind Nikolai, and when I open my eyes, I realize the entire gang is crowded behind us. Sasha and Maxim, Oleg, Adrian and Nadia, my brother, Zane. Even Dima and Natasha are there.

“I take it she said yes?” Shanna asks from the other side of the bar just before she pops the cork on a bottle of champagne.

“I didn’t give her a choice,” Nikolai says.

Another cheer with shouts and laughter goes up from our crowd.

Story congratulates us from the stage, and the band starts a kick-ass version of Billy Idol’s “White Wedding.”

I pull Nikolai’s face down for a kiss. “I love you,” I murmur. “Ty moya.”

“Ty moy,” he corrects. “Yes, I am yours.”

***