by SR Jones
I’m going to tell Justina to make me look as hot as hell itself.
Arriving back in the room, I find Justina already out of the bathroom. She’s also piled her hair on her head, and she’s wearing a robe.
“You were quick.”
She gives a shrug. “I shower for a long time every morning, or take a soak in the bath, so I freshened up under the spray for a minute.”
Oh, yeah. Her time in the brothel when she couldn’t shower for days. I give her a smile, not knowing what to say, and put the bottle down.
She grabs it and opens it, the pop of the cork making me jump. Then she pours us a glass each.
“Drink it; you need something to calm you down.”
“Obvious is it?” I grimace.
“Yeah, and why wouldn’t you be a nervous wreck? You’ve got to face the man who took you tonight.”
Yes, I have. I could do it tonight. Take a tiny smidgen of nut butter oil wrapped in something in my bag and offer to carry the drinks then rim the edge of Allyov’s glass with it. How the hell would I do it though? Or, maybe I could put some on my lips and peck him goodnight on the mouth?
No. Not with Andrius right there. I daren’t.
I’ll treat tonight like an information gathering exercise. See how the land lies, find out what I can about Allyov. See if there is any way I can get to him.
Justina takes a healthy sip of her champagne, and I do the same. It fizzes in my throat, and I like it. I’ve never tried it before.
“It’s nice,” I tell her.
She grins at me. “Yes, it is. I like the best of everything these days because I know it could all go away again at any moment.”
“Why would it all disappear? Andrius won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Yes, but something could happen to him. He lives a dangerous life.”
Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. What will happen to me if something like that occurs? Will Allyov take me back? Sell me?
I push the thought away as it’s too scary to contemplate, and I turn to Justina and let her see a bit of the truth about my feelings for the man. “Can you make me look so hot Andrius won’t be able to keep his eyes off me?”
Her grin widens, and she nods. “Oh, yes. Let’s do this.”
Thirty minutes later and I barely recognize myself. She’s made me look like a supermodel circa 1990, and it’s undeniably hot. My hair is big and cascades down my back in loose waves. My eyes are the focal point of my face, smoky and sexy. She’s artfully applied a few false lashes to the corners giving me a cat-eye look. Then she’s put a brown bronzer on my cheeks and finishes it with pale lipstick.
“Hot?” she asks with a smirk.
“Wow, yes.”
“Now, let’s get you dressed.” She walks to a door, opens it, and beckons me. I follow her and gawp.
“You’ve got a walk-in closet? You’re like the Mariah Carey of the mob world.”
She laughs.
“Come and take a look. I have a few sexy numbers, but there’s one I was thinking of in particular because it doesn’t fit me. I meant to take it back but forgot. I got it in the sale and didn’t have time to try it on in the shop.”
She pulls out a dress, which looks plain on the hanger. It’s black and straight with what looks like a lace panel a few inches above the hem.
“Versace,” she says. “It’s classy but so fucking hot. It’s deceptive. Try it on.”
“I need to put underwear on.”
She shakes her head. “You can’t wear a bra with this anyway, and you can go back to your room for knickers when you’ve got this on.”
I drop the towel and step into the dress she’s holding up for me. I turn around to let her zip it.
The spaghetti straps lead to a low cut, but not overly so, bodice. There’s a padded built-in bra to the dress, so it gives me support and a killer cleavage when I glance down. From there the dress skims my body and flares out a tiny bit below my hips to finish above my knees.
“Look in the mirror,” Justina orders.
I do as she says and can’t believe how sexy it looks on me. It clings to my bust, waist, and hips before gently flaring out. It hits an inch or two above my knees and shows off my slim legs. It’s not too tight, but it shows off every curve. It’s not low cut, but gives ample cleavage, and it isn’t short, but it makes my legs look long and sexy.
“It’s magical,” I tell her.
She grins. “Versace baby. Always my go to if I want to look smoking hot. Problem is, my shoes aren’t going to fit you, and I bet you don’t have any heels.”
My face falls. “No, I don’t.”
She grins then, bigger than any of her other grins. “It’s a good job I noted your shoe size when we were by the pool, and when I went to the shop the other day, I bought you some shoes, isn’t it? I’m afraid they aren’t Louboutin and are simple supermarket brand, but they are sexy and will go okay with an evening dress.”
I don’t know what a Louboutin is, but I don’t want to seem stupid, so I smile. She pulls a shoe box out and takes out a pair of mid-heeled shoes.
“Got you kitten heels, because I figured you’d never be able to walk in stilettos if you don’t normally wear them. I hoped we might get to go out one night, and I thought you’d not be able to wear anything hot with those flat sandals you live in. I bought these for exactly this purpose. Although I’d have preferred us three having a night out to being in Allyov’s company, it’s still getting out, I suppose.”
“Thank you.” I reach to her and give her a hug. “I mean it, thank you.”
“Go on, get out of here, and let me get ready.” She bosses me, pushing me toward the door, but I can see from how her eyes shine my words touched her. “Oh, and don’t forget your knickers,” she says with a laugh.
As if!
In my room, I pull my knickers on, and then put on the shoes and practice walking in them. My nerves are building again, but Justina appears in the doorway like my fairy godmother with more champagne, and this time I drink the whole glass down quickly when she is gone.
I love this stuff. Fizzy, warming. It’s lovely. I could get used to it.
Ten minutes later and Andrius is calling us. We head to the car, and he holds the door for me, then Justina, before climbing in himself.
She’s wearing a leopard-print dress, which clings to every curve on her body, with towering heels. A chunky bracelet on her wrist and matching chain around her neck accessorize her to perfection. I realize I don’t have any jewelry on. Oh well, too late now. Her outfit is sexy, but it’s kind of don’t-mess-with-me too.
As for Andrius, he looks incredible. He’s wearing dark grey trousers that almost look like they’re made from a denim-like cotton. He’s matched them with a fitted black shirt, tight across his back and on his biceps, rolled up at the sleeves, and with his watch and cross the only jewelry he wears.
I’d never thought of men’s clothes as being sexy, until Andrius. He wears things to show off his body in the same way Justina’s dress does. Or maybe, it’s simply that his body is so damned hot, there’s no hiding it.
They’d make a perfect couple. Whereas me and Andrius? Everyone would be wondering how the plain little Jane got such a hot guy.
Ugh. I look out of the window, and as we near the city my nerves build until I am chewing on the inside of my cheek. A bad habit that I need to stop.
“Okay, here’s the deal.” Andrius pulls the car up a few doors down from the entrance to the club. He turns to face me, one arm on the back of his seat. “Don’t say anything about us unless directly asked. If asked, play coy, try to blush, or look embarrassed. I’m going to touch you in there in a way to make those guys think you are mine. Play along, and don’t fuck this up.”
I nod, nerves and excitement mixing together in my belly. He’s going to touch me as if I’m his. I can’t deny I want to know what it feels like, even if it is only make-believe. Even if it makes me sick in the head for wanting it.
When I came down the stairs at the house and Andrius saw me, he smiled and told me I looked nice.
Nice.
I’d wanted his eyes to bug out of his head, and I got no real reaction at all. I know I’ve never looked better and if me this level of hot, which for me is way higher on the hotness scale than I normally go, can’t get a reaction out of him, maybe his words about wanting me are a lie. A way of messing my head up and playing games with me. Why he’d want to do such a thing, I don’t know, but he’s hardly a well-adjusted person, is he?
“Come on.” Justina climbs out of the car and gestures for me to follow, so I do.
We head for the line, but we don’t join it; instead, Justina stands to the left of the roped off area, next to the bouncers who give her a nod.
“We’ll wait for Andrius to park the car and join us,” she says. “I’d rather not face that nest of vipers without him.”
“Don’t you like them?” I ask.
She snorts. “Not really. Some of them are okay. I quite like Allyov’s wife, Donna, but Andrius says she can’t be trusted. Not that she’ll be here tonight because the wives don’t get to come clubbing. A few of the mistresses are okay, and one of them, Gregory’s girl, Lucy, I consider a friend, sort of.”
“Will she be here tonight?”
Justina shrugs. “Depends on whether he wants to get his dick wet with some random he pulls.”
“Ladies.” Andrius joins us, nods once at the bouncer who stands to one side, and we walk in to a few protests from those still waiting in line.
The place is opulent inside, but after seeing the house Andrius lives in, it looks fake and tawdry. If you look closely, you can see the corners of the thick red carpet of the cloakroom area are fraying.
I take my jacket off, handing it to the attendant, a woman in her fifties or sixties who gives me a flash of a smile which doesn’t reach her eyes.
Justina hands over her jacket, and we head inside. The moment we reach the bottom steps the booming bass of club music hits, reverberating through the soles of my feet.
I rarely went out clubbing, this is not my scene, so I’m not sure what the song is. I have terrible and cheesy taste in music, or so Aliya tells me. I wish she were here now as she’d know what the song is and how to dance to it, and I could follow her lead. Abba’s more my kind of speed.
I like the stuff my dad enjoyed. So I listen to music a lot of people my age think is terrible. Abba, mostly, and other songs from the sixties and seventies. I do like dance music, but it’s the more mainstream songs most people will have heard on the radio.
We head to the bar area, and my nerves ratchet up as I see Allyov and his bunch of goons and hangers-on sat at a table at the back of the cavernous space. Curiosity burns as I wonder what his new mistress is like. When we near, I spot her, or at least I think it must be her. She’s so young looking, and she has what appears to be natural strawberry blonde hair, which is curly and thick. Her slender body is wrapped in a shimmery metallic slip dress, and she has on a lot of makeup. It isn’t artfully applied though like Justina’s and mine and is a bit messy. The sort of thing a girl would do when she’s learning how to use eye shadow. Christ, just how old is she?
“I see Allyov is still chasing the jailbait,” Justina says in my ear. “Dirty bastard.”
The music is quieter here at the back of the room, and I can hear the people at the table talking.
Allyov is sitting at the center of the table, and he’s wiping the rim of his glass with a handkerchief. God, my stupid plan about smearing the rim of his glass with peanut butter oil would have to get through the barrier of his hygiene fetish.
“Andrius!” The odious man who’d tried to grab my boob at the party gives Andrius a hearty slap on the back.
“Gregory.” Andrius nods.
So, this is Gregory. He’s a pig, and I feel sorry for his mistress if she’s as nice as Justina says.
A woman who appears to be in her mid-twenties, and is not pretty but is glamorous as hell, sidles up to Gregory and slides her hand into his. She shoots Andrius a nervous glance and smiles at him before turning to cast a puzzled gaze over me. Her eyes lift, and she sees Justina stood behind me and grins.
“Oh, cool, you’re here. Now we can have a dance.”
“Drinks first, Luce,” Justina replies.
“Come on, girls. Let’s go to the bar.” Justina links her arm through mine and shoots Andrius a defiant glance. “You want a drink, boss?”
He nods. “Whiskey. On the rocks.”
“Yes, sir.”
He smirks and shakes his head before going to sit with Allyov and the unsure looking jailbait.
As we head out of earshot of the men and toward the bar, Lucy turns to me. “Are you the girl Allyov gave to Andrius?”
I nod. What the hell else can I say?
“Shit, Gregory told me about it. Said he couldn’t believe it. It’s not the sort of thing Sergei normally does. Not that the man’s a saint, but kidnapping? How are you holding up?”
I’m surprised she’s talking so openly about it with me. It’s weird as fuck. I shrug. “I’m doing okay. Justina has been kind.”
“Still, I mean, to be given to someone, with no say in the matter. And Andrius … the guy is hot, but fuck me is he scary.”
She glances to Justina. “I know you love him, girl, but he’s scary!”
“Yes, he is, but let’s just say he likes his gift, doesn’t he, Violet?”
Justina nudges me in the side to let me know to agree with her. I nod vigorously. “I think he likes me, and he’s been … good to me.”
“Anything I can do to help, you shout. Not that I can do much, but if you need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to talk to, you can always come to me.”
I remember what Andrius said about keeping my mouth shut and not saying too much, so I nod at her and leave it there.
Justina beckons the barman over, a strikingly good-looking young man with blond hair and light blue eyes. “Hey doll, can we get a whiskey for Andrius, please, and three mojitos.”
“What’s a mojito?” I ask.
“You’ll love it,” Lucy gushes. “It’s delicious.”
The barman gets busy, and soon he places a glass in front of me, which makes my mouth water. I don’t know what it will taste like, but it looks beautiful. Crushed ice, lime slices, mint, and two black straws sticking out of the side of the glass all serve to make my mouth water. I pick it up and take a hesitant sip.
“Oh, wow.” I turn to Justina who smiles at me.
It’s fresh and crisp, but sweet too. I think it may be the most delicious thing I’ve drunk. I like it more than champagne.
“Come on, ladies.” Justina picks up her drink and a tumbler full of ice and amber liquid, which I presume is Andrius’ whiskey. She doesn’t pay the barman, but I assume they don’t have to with it being Allyov’s club.
We head toward the table, and I wonder what the night will hold.
Chapter 11
Andrius
I take a sip of the whiskey and let the burn relax me. I can’t drink much as I’m driving, and while breaking the law isn’t something I worry about, I’m not going to endanger innocent lives, so this will be it for me tonight. I’ll make it last. Nurse it and hope Allyov doesn’t notice. He’s one of those drinkers who doesn’t like it when other people aren’t joining in. He drinks and drives, but not me. You could kill an innocent child doing shit like that.
Never mind I could also put Justina and Violet in danger.
Allyov leans into me and taps the side of my glass. “I hope you aren’t driving tonight, Andrius.”
I stare at him. Fuck my life. “Yes, I am as it happens.”
“How boring. Let one of my men drive you and the ladies’ home, relax.”
I grit my teeth. As if. “I thought you wanted me here tonight for work. I don’t drink when I’m working.”
“I don’t know why not,” he says. “Most people need a drink to do what you do.”
“Yeah well, I’m not most people, and drinking on the job makes for sloppy work. Sloppy work makes for evidence, and evidence leads to jail time, so I’ll stick to the one if it’s all the same.”
He leans back and smiles. “Tonight isn’t one of those jobs. Merely a little shit who needs to be taught a lesson about fucking me over.”
“Who?” I ask.
Allyov points lazily toward the bar, where Justina and Violet have been. The barman who served them is chatting to the club manager, a hard-faced redhead who I don’t particularly like because she always looks at me as if I am shit on her shoe.
“You better not mean the woman; you know my rules.”
“No, not my manager. The barman, he’s been running a fucking prostitution ring from my club. Do you know the shit that could come down on my head from something like that?”
I suck in a breath. The guy is either too stupid to live or has balls the size of an elephant.
“Yes, my friend. He could ruin me with such a stupid scheme; this place, the restaurant, the hotels, and the casinos, they are all clean. I don’t run women for this reason. Women talk. Some girl is blabbing about how this fucker forced her to do stuff she didn’t want to. He needs stopping and being made a warning of.”
“What about the girls?” I ask.
“You don’t want to know. They won’t be saying anything else, and none of them will be working out of here again, but I didn’t involve you as I respect your rules.”
“You had girls who were forced to sell themselves roughed up?” My voice is angry, and I notice a few people look our way. Shit.
“No, I simply had them scared off and told not to open their fucking mouths. I don’t like this any more than you. I don’t do this shit. For good reason. You have your rules, and I have mine. I don’t deal in women because livestock always fucking causes trouble. It talks.”
I fix him with a pointed stare. “You dealt in … livestock when you got me my gift.”
“Sometimes, my friend, rules are worth breaking. And who is your little mouse going to talk to? She has no one. Who will believe her? Taken off the street and given to a hitman. Don’t make me laugh. Anyway, she’s hardly harmed, is she? She’s here, talking with Justina, enjoying her drink. If she said anything, we could make her look like an unhinged liar in a matter of minutes.”