The Player (Chicago Bratva 8)

The women walk away.

“Flynn, I don't know about the party,” I say.

But just then Adrian appears behind me, like he knew I would fail, and I draw myself up. I can be that woman I saw in the mirror tonight. The chill one with highlights and punk eyeshadow.

“Let's go.” Adrian tips his head toward the door.

“No. I'm going to the party.”

“I just heard you say you changed your mind,” he says in Russian. I guess he’s trying to not embarrass me.

“Yeah, and I changed it again,” I answer in English. Adrian’s right. I need to practice it, or I’ll never get fluent.

“I'll take her back to the Kremlin,” Flynn tells Adrian.

“No. We will all go to party,” Adrian says, which makes Kat bounce in pleasure beside him. She’s my age and very social. A party will be right up her alley.

I should be mad, but I’m actually a little relieved. If I freak out, I can duck out with Adrian and Kat.

Flynn splits a look between me and Adrian. “Want to ride with me?”

I nod, a little breathless that he keeps pursuing me this way.

Adrian’s upper lip curls as he looks at Flynn. “You touch her, I kill you.”

Flynn

Nadia’s hand is clammy in mine as we weave through the party. I’ve already been offered drugs five times. I normally wouldn’t be counting. I also normally wouldn’t have declined the offers, but something about Nadia’s fragility makes me want to stay sober.

Story would be proud of me. She’s here at the party with Oleg. The whole Russian contingent came. Probably because no one trusts me with Nadia, which shouldn’t irritate the fuck out of me. It’s true that I’m not the most reliable guy. I party too much. Sleep around. Shirk responsibilities other than music, and even with that, I suck at the business end of things.

Thank fuck it’s actually starting to pay the bills. Ever since we did the music for Skate 32, the Youtube famous skateboard stars, we’ve really taken off. Our self-produced album gets a lot of downloads, and we’re booked two to four nights a week at different venues in town. Story’s even talking about us going on a low-budget tour this summer. For the first time in my life, I have more money in my pocket than I need for monthly expenses, and it feels great.

The party builds steam. Someone puts on some music, and at least twenty people crowd in the small apartment.

I don’t think this scene is working for Nadia, but I can’t really think of a better one.

I don’t want to ask her back to my place because that would just end up with us hooking up, which feels wrong. Not because her brother said he’d kill me–and I do believe he’d try. He probably wouldn’t even let her leave here with me.

Same as I would’ve kicked Ty or Lake’s asses if they ever tried anything with my sister. I know they’re not worthy, and I wouldn’t let them even think about trying. And believe me, I know they wanted to. Before she met her giant Russian protector, that is.

I’m not worthy of Nadia, either. I hook up with girls a lot. Okay, all the time. But I don’t stick. I don’t do relationships. Case in point–Candice-Cadence. Whatever her name is. I had sex with her last week. And it was the second time–a big mistake. One-and-done is a much better policy. Twice is pushing it. Three times, and they think you’re married.

But Lake is here, and he’s into her, so I’m hoping her interest will shift in that direction. That was the real reason I suggested early in the night that Candice-Cadence host a party. Of course, that was before I knew Nadia was coming out.

Nadia, the beautiful, skittish Russian whose defenses I’m dying to penetrate. I don’t know anything about her, but I can tell she’s full of potential. There’s this flickering glow she tries to hide under hunched shoulders and avoided eye contact. I saw it the first time we met. There’s a brilliance that started to show itself tonight in her new haircut and bold eyeliner. And I want to be around when it comes out.

So that means not doing the one-and-done thing with her. Being a friend. Sticking around longer than one night.

So no sex, despite the fact that she’s one hundred percent my type. I know I could rock her world and get her to forget all her fears if I just had her underneath me for an hour.

I find a perch on the arm of a couch and tug Nadia to sit in front of me. It’s not quite on my lap, but we are nested together, her ass against my angled hips, my arm around her waist. I breathe in her scent, which has warm undertones like butterscotch.