Me: Club Rouge it is. I’ll meet you there, bro.
I still have time to get in another workout, so I might as well head to my house. I prefer working out in the home gym I have inside my garage anyway. I only go to a brick and mortar gym when I’m training another boxer or traveling.
This could be fun. I need a night of letting loose, having a few drinks, and maybe getting laid. A club is just what I need to unwind.
Chapter 15
SIENNA
Walking to the bar, I jerk my head up, gaining the bartender’s attention. By the time I step up to the counter a tall glass filled with bubbly liquid is pushed my way with a straw already bobbing between the ice cubes.
“Thanks, Jeff,” I bite out as his dark green eyes slip in a slow descent, stopping at my chest. I didn’t go for a modest look tonight. The girls are on full display, amplified by the corset-style bodysuit I have on underneath my form fitting, strapless red dress.
Clasping my fingers around the drink, I pick it up off the bar and then turn, putting my back against the sleek lacquer bar top. Jeff isn’t bad to look at per se, but he’s never held my interest in that way. Then again, very few do.
After scanning the dance floor, my gaze flicks over to where my brothers are seated with one of Dom’s martial arts buddies. Domenico and Rick seem to be in a light mood, but Ren looks antsy, like this is the last place he wants to be. Even though Dom looks like he’s in a relaxed state, I know that’s just an illusion. He never lets his guard down. He’s always in parent mode when Ren and I are present, and he’s far worse when it comes to Lorenzo and me—sometimes, maybe even more so than our dad. Even though both of us are capable of taking care of ourselves, he makes it his role to watch us more closely than what is necessary.
Suddenly not in the mood to walk over to either of my brothers, I scan the floor on the top level, my eyes landing on Vin almost instantly. His head is tipped back, and that’s when I notice he’s talking to another person standing next to his table that’s pushed against the iron half-wall.
Those interested in a more relaxed, laid back atmosphere often congregate on the second level versus the first where the music is loud and the dancing is nonstop until last call.
Matteo pulls out the chair across from Vin and then proceeds to sit down with a glass tumbler in his hand. There isn’t a smile on his face, and Vin is sporting a pinched look, so I can take a guess that Matteo is likely asking him about last Friday and what happened.
I’m curious myself, but for different reasons. I know what happened to Vin that night; well, mostly. I know while my father was doing the dirty work—handling Levi—Dom was likely making Vin spill his fucking guts.
Why did Vin bring his brother-in-law in or try to? He’s always told me the guy is a piece of shit and wishes his sister would grow up and find a real man. No scenario I conjure up makes sense. Something feels off about the whole thing, but what?
“You know,” a familiar voice says, and I have to force the smile not to form on my lips, “your gut instinct is usually right. You ever thought about listening to it, Sienna?”
Rolling my head to the right, my dark eyes land on eyes so light blue that at first glance, Krishna Nikolayev looks like an angel with his pure eyes and golden locks. He’s seated, but from many past encounters at his full height of six-foot-six, he towers over me. Tonight, with his ass on a stool, I’m eye to eye with a man that looks more like a god than Mischa Nikolayev’s second-in-command.
“How would you know what my gut is saying?” I ask instead of giving him an answer.
He swivels on the barstool, angling his body to face the side of mine. Lifting his right foot off the floor, he plants it onto the metal footrest attached to the stool. I don’t have to peek down to know the front of my body is partially blocked against the bar by how far his knee juts out. He smirks thinking he’s trapped me exactly where he wants me.
Bringing my flavored sparkling water to my mouth, I wrap my lips around the straw, sucking the liquid slowly as I wait for his answer.
His stare flicks away from mine, glancing to the floor above where I was looking moments ago. Following his eyes, mine stop back on where I spotted Vin and Matteo.
“The day you dropped that mask you wore for so long, you burned that motherfucker,” he says, his warm breath fanning my face. When he doesn’t say more, I turn my head back to him. “In other words, you’re transparent.”
“Yeah?” A dry laugh slips from behind my lips. Turning, I sit my empty glass on the bar, finished with it. “What’s my transparency saying, Krishna?” I pronounce his name in the best Russian accent I can muster. When his eyes dip to my lips, I know the effect hit its mark.
Krishna stands, squeezing his large frame between me and the stool behind him. “At the moment, it says you’re playing with fire.” He steps closer, pressing himself against my hip bone. When I don’t react to the hardening muscle between his legs, he smirks, as if expecting it. Lowering his head, his nose tickles the shell of my ear. “I’m not like your brothers, Sienna. There is no honor to be found in my bones; no respect, and certainly no mercy. The only reason I’ve never fucked you is because no pussy is worth starting World War III over—not even yours.” His face moves away from me, but his crotch remains fused to the side of my body.
“How would you know? You’ve never had it.” I lean my head back, arching an eyebrow up at him.
“No bitch is worth that much trouble.” His eyes leave mine for the briefest of moments, and I know he glanced over in my brother’s direction.
“Says you.”
“I know it’s not,” he throws back.
“You going to explain what you mean or not?” I ask, bored with this conversation.
Stepping away from me, he plants his ass back down on the barstool. He’s silent for at least half a minute, his eyes boring into mine, searching for something, I presume. Finally, he breaks our locked gaze, jutting his head to the side and up. I glance in the direction he’s requested, my gaze once again landing on Vin, Matteo’s presence ignored.
“You were wondering if he should’ve been fish food too, like that other fuck.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say in a steady voice. I won’t allow him to ruffle my feathers if that’s what he’s trying to do.
“Right . . .” Krishna nods as a smile ghosts his lips. “But then your family differs from mine in that way. We wouldn’t have simply beat him to within an inch of his life; though,”—Krishna glances up to the floor above us briefly, then his eyes come back to mine, only this time they’re colder, harder than before—“from the looks of it, your brothers didn’t do much of a job if he’s walking and talking and drinking less than a week later.”
“Maybe my family doesn’t believe in someone paying for the sins of a man they’re related to,” I remark.
“Everyone is a sinner, Si. Even you—as innocent as you portray yourself as—have a dark need to fulfill.”
“What . . .” I pause, because there’s a laugh on the tip of my tongue. Inhaling, I finish my thought. “What gives you the impression that I’m innocent?” I turn to face him. “Does anything about this seem innocent to you?” I point to my attire.
“Just because you enjoy inflicting pain on another person doesn’t mean there isn’t a part of you that’s still innocent. If there wasn’t, you wouldn’t be able to get my dick hard.” He smirks, and for the first time tonight, his eyes dip, gazing upon my pushed-up cleavage. “As for your clothing choice, well, that just intrigues me more.”
Suddenly Krishna’s body language and facial expression changes. It hardens into the cold-blooded killer he’s rumored to be. “I’m not the only man you intrigue.”
His eyes veer up, but I don’t follow his gaze. Is he talking about Matteo?
“He watches you, and you’re oblivious to it. He’s been doing it for a long time. I don’t even think your brothers or your dad realize it.”
“Realize what?” I’m
dumbfounded. What he’s saying isn’t making any sense. “Who?” I ask.
Krishna is silent for a long beat and his penetrating stare only makes my mouth dry. I finished my drink, but some of the ice should have melted enough to wet my lips. When I grab the glass and bring the straw to my lips, I discover Jeff replenished me with a full beverage. I suck the contents down.
Finally, Krishna sighs, as if deciding whether or not to answer my questions.
“They spared his life because he’s your friend, but that’s the thing, Sienna. I don’t believe he is your friend at all. He doesn’t look at you like a guy that simply wants to get into a girl’s pants, or even a guy interested in taking a girl out on a date.”
“Like you take girls out on dates,” I cut in.
“I don’t, but that’s not the point.”
“Then what is your point?”
His eyes leave mine, snapping over my head to look behind me. It’s not long before his stare is back on me, but this time the ice inside them has thawed—only by a hair, but it’s still more emotion than he usually shows.
Pulling his cell out of his pocket, his head looks down and my gaze follows his, landing on a text message that he’s thumbing out so quickly I don’t have a chance to read what it said; only that it was to Domenico.
Interesting.
“My point is . . . I have a feeling he’s biding his time for something. That something being you.”
“I’ve already shut that down,” I tell him. “He knows I’m not interested.” And I’m not. Not in the least.
“Just because you were never interested in his bitch-boy ass doesn’t mean he stopped being interested in you.” He says that like it should be obvious, but it’s not, and I think he’s wrong. At least about Vin wanting me in the way he is suggesting. Men—Italian men anyway—have too much pride to set themselves up for a second round of rejection. It’s not happening, not in this lifetime anyway.
“What did you text my brother?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Not to put a bullet through my head and to control your twin when I kiss you.”
“And what makes you think Dom is going to let you put your hands on me?” My brothers would flip their shit; not about a guy touching me, but they would about this guy in particular putting his hands on me.
“Because I’m proving a point to him the same as I am you.” There’s a heartbeat of silence, but before I can come up with anything to say, he continues, “And I told him to trust me.”
“Why would Dom trust you?” He cocks an eyebrow, silently telling me that was by far the dumbest question to leave my mouth.
“You know why.” He steps forward, but his glacier eyes once again peek over my head. Krishna doesn’t need approval from anyone except his father, and even that’s questionable. Damn Russians. Except, that’s exactly what I see in his stare that’s obviously seeking out my older brother from another part of the club.
I don’t exactly know the why like he inferred I do. I have my suspicions, though, but that is all they are—suspicions, a sibling sixth sense so to speak.
Krishna’s eyes land back on mine and then they flick down to my lips. “If you weren’t his fucking sister . . .” His breath fans across my face, his voice low and seductive, making me want to squirm. It takes every ounce of control not to move, giving myself away. “I’d fuck every ounce of innocence out of you, right here, right fucking now, and in front of everyone in this goddamn place, Si.”
I suck in a breath. I wasn’t expecting those words to exit his sinful mouth, though it’s not like he hasn’t said similar things over the years.
Trying to play off his affect on me, I tip my lips up, but I glance away needing a second away from the seriousness in his eyes.
“Still with that innocence mumbo jumbo.” I roll my eyes, but he grabs my chin in a firm hold between his fingers, forcing me to look back up at him.
“Domenico and I really are a lot alike, sweetheart. Like I said before, if you weren’t so pure, you never would have caught my interest in the first place.” His fingers tug on my chin, pulling me closer to him ever so slowly. His digits are complete opposite of his eyes. His skin is warm.
“Gross. Please do not compare me to the virgins you and Dom love to deflower.” I let out a breath. “Besides, innocent girls don’t want to do the things I want to do.”
“Just because the sight of blood turns you on the same as it does us, Sienna, doesn’t mean you’re like us. The damage you inflict heals. We, on the other hand . . .” His words hang in the air, pissing me off. I know he’s likely to have taken a life before, but he’s insinuating that Dom has too, and that doesn’t settle well with me. I’m not naive. I know Dom is capable of doing that if he had to, and maybe he has, but he’s never admitted that to me. I already deal with Ren’s secretive shit, I shouldn’t have to from Domenico too when I’m a goddamn open book to them.
He tugs a little more, pulling me out of my thoughts, and my heels lift off the ground, allowing him to move me where he wants me. “I’m going to kiss you now, but before you close those stunningly dark eyes, I want you to look up there at that so-called friend of yours. Look hard, because if you look close enough, the eyes never lie. People are never as clever as they think they are.”
“What makes you so sure I’m going to close my eyes?”
Krishna’s tongue juts out between his lips. He’s so close to my mouth that the tip touches my lips, wetting them. My lips part, and as if on reflex, I suck in a breath. My eyes lower, finding the corner of one side of his mouth curved up.
“Because you’re not going to be able to hold them open, baby.” He leans in the rest of the way, and before his lips touch mine, his head tilts to the side, giving me the perfect view to the second level. I see exactly what Krishna wanted me to see, but I can’t analyze it, because the moment our lips touch, my eyes glide to someone else.
Matteo.
He’s staring at us, at me. Our gazes lock. Krishna was wrong, so wrong. I can’t even force them to close, which is exactly what I want to do at this very moment. Looking at Matteo feels right. It’s always felt right, which is why I could never stop myself from staring at him. I knew it came off creepy and weird, but there’s a pull that won’t allow me to look away, just like now.
However, the lips connected with mine, and the tongue making love with my own feels wrong. For the life of me, I don’t understand why. It’s not like Matteo has ever been anything more than an acquaintance, if even that. I should be enjoying the kiss; this sensual kiss. Krishna is good with his mouth. He’s skilled. But I’m not enjoying it. It’s more of an indifference, and maybe it has nothing to do with the man my eyes are locked with or the murderous expression marring his beautiful face. Maybe it has more to do with Domenico, or that Krishna himself is probably picturing said brother in his mind right now instead of me.
It’s not that men haven’t been interested in me. It’s that the men I’m interested in have never been interested in me. I have no doubt that Krishna, or even Matteo, would sleep with me given the chance. I’ve felt them both grow hard against me, but that’s all it would be—just meaningless sex.
And therein lies my problem; one of them, at least. I’m not like most twenty-three-year-olds. I don’t want to bang every Tom, Dick, and Harry that presses his erection against my thigh.
I’m peculiar. So picky that it annoys the hell out of me.
“I had a third point to make too.” My eyes snap to his at the sound of his voice, and that’s when I realize he’s no longer kissing me. Instead, Krishna’s thumb runs back and forth across my lips. “Did De Salvo watch me eat out this hot mouth?”
What? Why would he ask that?
His eyes dilate and his lips spread slowly. The expression on Krishna’s face is positively sinful. “Good,” he says with a nod, acknowledging whatever my eyes are telling him.
“What point were you making with Matteo?” I finally ask when my brain isn’t putting two and two together
like apparently it should be.
“That you’re not on his menu.” I scowl, and Krishna yanks my chest flush with his, my feet lifting off the ground. He plants a quick kiss to my lips and then I’m placed back down. “He doesn’t deserve you. Hell, no man does. You’re too good; too strong for even the champ himself. He’s a fucking douche for never seeing you until now.”
“I’m too good for him,” I mock. “That phrase doesn’t make any sense no matter the context. No one is too good, nor not good enough for someone else, Krishna. It’s the same as life. It’s neither fair nor unfair. Life is just life. Humans are just human. If we want something, we say or show we want it, and if we’re able, we take it. If they want us in return, then great. If not, it is what it is.”
“Then why haven’t you taken him? Huh?” His eyebrow arches, demanding an answer. Instead of giving him one, I cross my arms over my chest and purse my lips. “And there’s my final point.”
My jaw hardens into granite. If this dress wasn’t so damn tight and restricting, I’d ram my knee between his legs.
“I’m not scared, nor do I . . .” I inhale as rage courses through every cell in my body. “Care whatever fucking point is in your stupid fucking head that you’re attempting to make.”
“Oh, my point hit its mark perfectly, baby.” He smirks down at me, then lifts his glass from the bar, bringing it to his lips slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, not even when he tips the amber liquid to his lips, downing the remainder.
“You’re just trying to bait me.”
“No trying to it. You’re already hooked on the line and now all you have to do is go prove me wrong. Go flaunt this hot, sexy little body in front of De Salvo. Watch him salivate and fall to his knees in front of you. Simple as that.”
My nose scrunches up, but not because the thought grosses me out. It doesn’t. Quite the opposite actually, but I don’t want Matteo for a quick, wham bam thank you ma’am. I want him—all of him—and I want . . . forever. And therein lies my biggest problem: I want him but he doesn’t want me. At least not in terms of forever.
Bad Princess: A Mafia Romance Page 10