"Yes." I avert my eyes, dropping my gaze to the feet of a man passing. He has nice shoes, but right now, I’m trying to manage the burn in my cheeks.
"What did I say?"
"You said I understand why my father can't sleep."
He glares at me and says, "Pay attention. You came here to learn a lesson."
I glower at him but I turn my eyes back to the fight, and when the lean man lands a body shot that buckles his opponent sideways, I use the movement of the crowd to glance across the ring again, and the handsome stranger is still looking at me. This time, he's smiling.
He holds my gaze across the pit as the corner of his mouth lifts to a flicker of a smile—barely there and gone before I can be sure I saw it. He says something to the taller man next to him whose shaggy hair isn't nearly as nice. He's older too, which I'm not a fan of. I like the younger one, and I like the way he seems to like me.
I smile back at him, though the heat is getting worse now, climbing down my neck from my cheeks into my chest. I fan myself, trying to ward off the deep blush I feel, but there really isn't any point. I'm sure he's seen my red cheeks and flustered behavior.
I don’t think I've ever had a man so handsome take interest in me, least of all one that age. Men my age are irresponsible and immature—a dime a dozen. And Maksim is handsome, don't get me wrong, but he's being forced on me. Maybe it would be different if I'd been given the choice, if he courted me and brought me flowers.
Instead, I was told at the age of sixteen I was going to marry him—then aged twenty-four. Now I'm twenty-three and he's thirty-one, and finally, they're pushing to make it real. But not once has he ever given me the rush I feel right now, not a hint of excitement or arousal or even attraction. He's just a duty, an obligation.
"Would you like a drink?" Filipp offers, nodding across the room toward the concessions stand where they're selling beer and whiskey like it's water in a desert. I'm not thirsty, but he's not interested in getting drinks, anyway. The betting window is right beside the concessions.
Still, I nod, and say, "Yes, a vodka neat, please." It's enough to make Filipp's eyes light up and enough for me to get a moment to myself. The spot he stood closes up as soon as he is out of it, but my eyes turn back to the handsome stranger.
Except he's not there.
And a quick search of the room doesn't produce him, either.
And suddenly, the rush of adrenaline and excitement in my body evaporates, and I'm left staring at two sweaty men beating each other senseless again, wishing I could feel that rush.
I have to get used to the idea that I will soon be a married woman, Maksim Orlov's wife, and my days of flirting with other men or dreaming about a romantic fairy tale dream come true are over.
2
STEPAN
The crowd is thick tonight, and the betting is moving fast. I stand along the back wall with Roman to my left and Kazimir to my right and a clear line of sight to the pit from here without being in the middle of the noise. Kaz has spent the better part of the past nine months working hard on rebuilding, and after last week's grand reopening, I'd say we're on the right track.
Roman leans against the wall and watches the fight without much interest. He's seen a thousand of these, enough to know how things go, but he's in a good mood tonight. I think we all are now that things are starting to feel normal again.
"Kaz," he says, not looking away from the pit. "You set up this new security rotation?" My eyes track the guys who walk the floor watching our guests and our fighters. Using fighters these men have seen in the ring trading blows to keep them in line was genius.
Kazimir nods and grins like a fool. "Yeah... Probably should've been doing that all along."
"It's working," Roman grunts. "Not a single incident so far.”
Kazimir tips his head but stays quiet and focuses on his fights. I was jealous when he got put in charge of all of this, but he's doing a great job. Roman knew he was the right choice, and besides, I have my hands full with recruitment, anyway.
When Roman turns to me, the good mood's still there but his focus has shifted, and I know what's coming before he opens his mouth.
"So. The Belova girl..." His eyebrows lift in a familiar expression. This is a problem I've been working on for a few months now, how to stop an alliance from forming against us. The trouble is, when two men sit across a table from one another and shake hands, it's not easy to separate that. I've had a hard time discerning how to stop Maksim Orlov and Sergei Belova from growing closer.
"She's here," I say. "Across the room. Her uncle brought her tonight."
He keeps his eyes on the pit where the ring crew is resetting for the next fight. "And you're sure about the marriage?"
"Sergei's been in Orlov's ear for years, Ro. When his daughter marries the man, they pool their resources..." I don’t have to say aloud what that spells for us. Once Roman took the alliance with the Radin smuggling operation, all bets were off. New allies mean new enemies too, and we've found a few fresh faces who want to shut us down.
"The Belovas could never hurt us on their own."
"No. But the Orlovs can help, and once that wedding locks them together, Sergei doesn't need his own muscle anymore. He's borrowing Maksim's."