He wears a smile and I can already tell he’s about to piss me off.
"Wait," he says.
"Don't."
"Are you jealous?"
"No."
"Zoya."
“Why would I be jealous? You can do whatever you want. This is a marriage of convenience.”
He turns to face me, leaning his elbow on the bar with his body angled toward mine. He signals the bartender again, andtwo more shots slide across the counter. He pushes one toward me.
“You’re jealous,” he says. “Just admit it, you want to be mine just as I’m already yours.”
I pick up the shot. “I’m not jealous.”
We drink.
“I like this side of you,” he says, setting his glass down while his voice drops warm and low. “The possessive side. I need your crazy to match my crazy. I mean it.”
I set my glass down and look at him. “You want to see my crazy?”
“More than anything.”
“You wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
“Try me,” he says, and the smile on his face has me wanting to punch and kiss him in the same breath.
I hold his gaze for a long moment. Then I stand up, smooth my dress, and walk toward the exit. He follows, falling into step beside me and leaning down close to my ear.
“Where are we going?”
I don’t look at him. “You want to see if my crazy matches yours. Follow me.”
I march through the club, faking confidence. I don't know where I'm going, but I take a left turn. I move past the bar and the booths, letting the crowd blur into a mess of color. The VIP area branches out, and I pick a path, walking until Alexei’s silent presence behind me feels like a threat. I slow down, searching the dark corners. Then I walk right into a wall. It is a solid, stone barrier. I stand there and stare at the stone.
Alexei stands beside me. He stares at the wall, then at me. He stays silent for a long moment.
“You don’t know where you’re going,” he says, amusement in his tone. “Are you looking for the private booth, wifey?”
“I know where I’m going,” I snap, defensive and embarrassed. “And yes, I was looking for it. It’s too dark in here.”
“Sure,” he says, sounding unconvinced. “Why don’t we go this way?” He points down the hall. “I saw a booth down there.”
I turn around. “Lead the way,” I say, acting as if I meant to go there all along.
His hand hits the small of my back to steer me. He stops at a door, pushes it open, and holds it while I walk inside. The private room is small, dark, and velvet-lined. The club music drops to a low pulse through the walls. He walks in behind me, the door clicks shut, and he sits on the couch. He leans back, watching me stand in the center of the room in my gold dress, his eyes dark and hungry.
“Well?” he says, his tone taunting. “We’re here. Do you want to show me your crazy, or was that just more talk?”
I reach into my clutch and pull out my phone.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Remove your pants,” I command.