Chapter 8 Chapter 8

Valentina

“Who the fuck is that?” Francesca asks in a low voice so Maksim cannot hear her. He has escorted us to the private area of the bar and beckoned the server to attend to him.

“You do not want to know, Frankie,” I tell her as I keep a trained eye on Maksim. Fuck, I hate, and I mean, I absolutely hate that he is so damn good-looking. Why couldn’t the son of Silov be an ugly bastard? Why did he have to have that strong jaw he is sporting with scruff that is tasteful, tidy and waiting for my fingers to touch it? His broad shoulders fill out his shirt, the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his black tattoos running up from his hand and under the sleeves.

“You look a little gone, Vali. Are you going to tell me who this man is making your panties wetter than Niagara Falls?” Fuck my life. There are no secrets usually between Francesca and I. After all, we grew up together, went to private school together. I have always told her everything and confided in her.

My best friend knows who I have slept with, whose hearts I have shattered over the years. Any arguments with my parents, she has heard them. The biggest secret I have kept is my real job. Like everyone else, she believes I work for my father. And that is exactly how I want to keep it. She doesn’t need to know what I truly do. It’s safe this way.

“I am not wet for that asshole. He is not a friend of mine,” I tell her simply as I shrug my shoulders.

“Yeah, right. You are tracking every move he makes, my dear friend. And you are talking to someone who knows every look you have, every nuance, everything. And my eyes never deceive me when it comes to you. So, spill. Who is he? Is he single? Does he like a threesome, because I sure could climb him like a monkey.”

And why does that make me feel slightly uneasy and jealous? The thought of any woman putting her hands on Maksim makes my gut do this weird twisting thing. I furrow my brows; this is new to me. What is going on with me? I need to get laid and quick.

“How the hell would I know, Frankie. Go and ask him,” I tell her abruptly, which causes her eyes to widen.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. He just gets to me. Let’s go whilst he is busy with the server.”

Francesca places a cool hand on my lower arm. “No, we’re staying. I kind of want to see how this plays out. Besides, someone has just joined him.”

I glance up to see that, in fact, another man is now standing by Maksim’s side. A good-looking guy, I have to admit. Interesting. Who is this now?

Maksim turns; our eyes meet. My body feels as if it is burning up. The intensity of that look makes me melt on my stool. Frankie nudges me. Then he speaks as he hands us the drinks. “Ladies, meet my good friend, Norden.” His voice is smooth and velvety, like the expensive brandy that I enjoy every now and then. It hits me right in the core of my body; I squeeze my thighs together with my legs crossed.

“Nice to meet you, Norden,” Francesca says, batting her eyelashes. I roll my eyes. This woman has no shame. Never has and no doubt never will, until a man finally captures her heart. Which I can’t see happening anytime soon. I glance around to break the intense stare Maksim is giving me.

There are a few people in the private area; the main bar area is busy. It always is here. Usually, I have a good time. I hit on someone, or they hit on me, and we spend the night having mediocre sex. I am yet to meet a man that can fulfil my expectations. Even though I hate to admit this with all of my being, something tells me that Maksim just might be the man that can.

No matter what, however, he is the heart of the man who took a shot at my father. Things are not resolved. I need to focus and not be swept away by the protruding veins on his hands and forearms.

“Shall we go and dance?” Francesca asks me, bringing me back to myself. Good job, someone did. I do not have time to think about a certain man’s hands running up and down my body.

I give her a nod and down the glass of champagne. We walk hand in hand towards the main dance floor. It is packed already. We make our way to the middle, surrounded by men and women gyrating and waving their hands in the air as the DJ plays techno. The beat fills my body, my hips begin to sway, Francesca begins to jump up and down.

Not too long after, I feel a man sliding behind me. I can feel the heat coming off him. I turn my head to see a tall guy standing behind me, dark, brooding eyes, slicked-back hair. “Do you mind?” he asks me. I shrug. Maybe he could be the hook-up I need tonight. I take his hand and place it around my waist, allowing his palm to rest on the flat of my stomach. Francesca is dancing between two men, giving it her all. I smile at her. She gives me a knowing wink. The one that tells me she has her men for the night.

I dance with the man as the DJ slows the beat for a few minutes. Then I hear an almost growling voice behind me. “Get your hands off her.” What the fuck. I turn instantly to witness Maksim placing a large hand on the shoulder of the man I was dancing with. “Beat it,” he says, a voice full of menace.

“What the hell, Dude. What is your problem?” the man asks. I glare at Maksim, if only my looks could kill like my sniper rifle.

“I said, she is taken. Now, if you know what is good for you, I suggest you go back to the bar, or find another woman.”

The man holds his hands up. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbles and leaves without looking back.

I place my hands on my hips. “Who the fuck do you think you are? I was having a good time with him. What I do is none of your damn business, asshole.” The anger spurts out of my mouth as my words hit like shards of ice. He doesn’t flinch; his eyes give nothing away.

“Nobody touches you, Santangelo.” Is he serious right now? I stop myself from allowing my jaw to hit the ground.

“Any man I allow can touch me, dickhead. You have no say in who I choose to hold my body against. I wanted to fuck him senseless.” I know I’m riling him up. I can see the way his jaw clenches, his strong jaw that I want to run my fingers along.

Maksim is dangerous.

He keeps his eyes on mine.

He makes no reaction.

It feels as if it is only the two of us on the dance floor. The music seems far in the distance. The blood pressure roars in my ears as my chest rises and falls.

“You don’t get to fuck anyone else, Котёнок. You will be mine.”

I raise my eyebrows. This man has a fucking nerve.

“The hell I will. Don’t forget who is in charge here, Maksim. I am not, nor will I ever be, underneath you or tied to you in any way. You are out of your fucking mind. Now get out of my way right now. Or I will reach for the knife I have hidden on me, and stab you in the gut and allow you to bleed out.”

Still, he doesn’t flinch.

His jaw ticks.

He stands directly in front of me.

He takes a step closer.

I can smell his musky scent on him; I can smell his masculinity. It’s fucking with my mind. My hands itch to hook around his neck and bring his angry lips to mine to crush me and suck the oxygen out of my lungs.

“You wouldn’t dare, Котёнок,” he says, confident in himself. I raise an eyebrow.

“Trust me, Maksim. I am one woman you do not want to fuck with.” I have to breathe. I need air. I have to move as far away from him as possible. He smells and spells D.A.N.G.E.R.

As I push past him, I feel his hand grab my wrist. He pulls it up and kisses the inside of it. A shot of electricity hits me like I’ve been short-circuited.

Then I do what I am best at.

I run.