Sold to the Hitman(30)

I gulp back my fear as Andrei muscles us through the throngs of swaying, laughing people to get us about a foot’s width of space at the counter. His arm is crooked around me, accidentally pinning me against the bar. A tall, pretty girl with cropped hair dyed blue at the tips is working the counter, taking incomprehensible drink orders from the already-buzzed crowd with a cool, collected ease.

When she catches sight of Andrei, she does a double-take, then gives him a familiar nod and smirk. She slides over and says, “Long time no see! Been busy lately?”

Before he can answer, her eyes fall on me and her smile widens. “Guess that answers my question. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

I struggle to make my voice heard over the pounding din. “C-Cassie.”

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Natalie. Whatcha drinkin’ tonight, hon?”

Andrei interjects, “She’s underage, Natalie. But she’ll have a cranberry juice, and I’ll have a — ”

“Yeah, yeah, vodka tonic. Creature of habit, this one,” the bartender adds to me.

She turns and prepares our drinks so quickly it astounds me, then spins back to us and sets it on the bar counter with a smile. When Andrei tries to hand her cash, she purses her lips and shakes her head.

“Nah, you know it’s on the house. Have a good time! And look after Miss Cassie here,” Natalie tells him with a wink. Andrei lifts his drink in a kind of casual salute and guides me back away to a corner table, the two of us skirting the dance floor.

“You must be very popular,” I remark.

Andrei shrugs. “Like I said, this place is the most like home for me.”

“Is Natalie from Siberia, too?” I ask genuinely.

He chuckles and takes a sip of his drink. “No, no. But I am a regular here.”

“What does that taste like?” I gesture shyly toward his vodka tonic.

Offering the little glass to me, he says, “Try it for yourself.”

“But… I’m underage,” I protest, even as I take the glass from him.

“It’s only a taste,” Andrei counters.

My father’s voice in the back of my head shouts at me sternly, urging me to put the glass down and resist temptation. Instead, I raise it to my lips and take the tiniest of sips. I immediately grimace at the bitter taste. A shudder runs through my body and Andrei looks like he might actually crack a smile.

“Don’t like it?”

Not wanting to seem rude, I deny it. “N-no, it’s… it’s good.” To prove my point I take a big, long gulp of the disgusting clear liquid and have to fight to keep it down.

Andrei reaches over and takes the drink back, his full lips finally breaking into a rare, captivating smile. “How do you feel?”

The effect is instantaneous. My head gets fuzzy and my limbs tingle. I almost want to laugh, for no real reason except that I feel pretty darn good. I lick my lips and can’t help but notice the way Andrei’s eyes dart to my mouth when I do it. That makes me feel some kind of warm sensation between my legs, and suddenly I want to do something crazy.

I want to dance.

Hopping down from the high-top bar stool, I reach for Andrei’s hand, swaying ever so slightly on my feet. He gives me a questioning look, but when I tug on his sleeve, he tosses back the rest of his drink in one deep draught, gets to his feet, and allows me to lead him into the pulsating throng of dancers.

My heart hammers in my chest. That warning voice in my mind is hissing at me to resist, resist, resist! But the alcohol combined with the hard, warm body of the man behind me radiates a numb determination around my body and I just need to move. We weave through the crowds to where the music beats loud and rhythmic above us and all around us, the bassline thumping alongside my heart. The conscious part of my brain is floundering because I don’t know how to dance. But some subconscious instinct takes over and seizes my limbs, making me sway, then raise my arms above my head and roll my hips side to side.

As though pulled by invisible marionette strings, I start to move with the music, and Andrei slides in close behind me, his arms coming down to keep me near. His large hands fall to my waist, rocking me, gently controlling the rhythm of my movements. I can feel his ticklish, vodka-tinged breath on my cheek, his lips brushing along the slope of my neck to press soft, teasing kisses against my jaw. His hands slide up and down my frame, squeezing my thighs, roving up my stomach to subtly brush over my breasts. The music, the sensation of his body against mine, and the intoxicating drink are sending me into a confusing state.

I’m dizzy and frightened and exhilarated all at once. I can feel a wetness growing between my thighs and suddenly I can’t stop myself from spinning around to face Andrei. I tilt my head up to look at him, peering into his dark eyes, his solid features, and my hands both go up to bring his face down closer to mine…