𝕁𝔼𝕎𝔼𝕃𝕊

𝟙𝟝

- 𝐽𝑢𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒'𝑠 𝑃𝑂𝑉-

As we entered the private club, the atmosphere shifted. The air was heavy with the scent of cigars, mingling with the subtle notes of expensive whiskey. Valentin led me through the dimly lit room, his hand resting gently on the small of my back.

The club was filled with men who exuded power, their tailored suits accentuating their commanding presence. Conversations were hushed as Valentin and I made our way to a secluded corner where his brother, Aleksander, and a few other familiar faces were sitting. Eyes followed our every move, whispers circulating among the gathered guests.

Valentin leaned in, his voice low, he sensed I was nervous,

"It's just a get-together with friends, nothing to worry about tonight," He reassured me.

I plastered a polite smile on my face even though I would've much rather been shaking my ass for tips in the strip club.

I watched Valentin closely, he was the picture of an influential and respected figure. With each conversation, his influence and authority were affirmed. He commanded attention, and everyone in the room knew better than to cross him.

Valentin sat down with a grin on his face, laughing as he greeted Vlad and Ajax, he shook his brother's hand firmly and patted his lap for me to sit.

Aleksander gave me a look of disapproval as I draped my arms around Valentin's neck.

He looked at his younger brother crossly and muttered something in Russian to which Valentin smirked and replied in the same tongue and carried on.

"What did he say?" I nudged Valentin.

"He asked why I brought you and I told him because I couldn't risk you trying to run away."

The three started playing a game of cards, I turned my head and looked over my shoulder. There was that woman that I had seen weeks earlier yelling at Ajax over Mr. Volkovas and she was looking right at me with piercing brown daggers.

"Why don't you get us something to drink at the bar? You look awfully bored," Valentin suggested, I cleared my throat and looked across the way at the bar station.

On the way to the bartender, I scrunched my nose at how I was going to fetch him a drink, at least I was getting one too.

There was a line, but upon my arrival, the line parted with assumptive whispers, as if I was Valentin Volkovas himself.

The bartender was an older man, his salt and pepper beard was trimmed well, and his hair was a shiny silver. He had the most gentle face out of anyone here.

"Hello my name is Erik, It's a pleasure to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you," He held out his hands to hold mine. I wasn't used to this type of treatment, all because Mr. Volkovas chose me as his.

"May I please have a glass of champagne and a double shot of vodka on the rocks," I smiled at him politely dropping a few dollars into his tip jar.

I leaned my elbow on the counter as I waited for the drinks to be made, shifting my focus back to the booth. There was the woman with the piercing brown daggers twirling her dark hair around her fingers, laughing and laughing, a little bit too much, at something Valentin had said.

I thanked the bartender for the drinks and sauntered my way over to the booth swaying my hips as if I were on the floor of the strip club. Something about the duality of fear and affection had woven a fragile bond between him and me, giving strange uneasy feelings in the pit of my stomach. I felt a burning in my throat, and maybe a twang of anger.