When I'm offered a job as the bar manager at the most exclusive club in Barcelona, I took it. I also knew it was in my best interest to do as I'm told, and keep my mouth shut. You see, the billionaire Russian mobsters who run the place were the kind of guys you didn’t want to know too much about anyways. But I really needed the money, and I knew that as long as I ensured the customers were happy and I did my job, everything would be fine. 

That is until Andrei came into the picture. 

He was one of those Russian gangsters that ran the club, sexy and dangerous.  A real bad boy who had gained quite the reputation around here as a ladies man, and now his attention was fixed on me.

The guy was bad news in a good suit, and I knew that giving in to him would be the worst idea I’ve ever had.

F**k me!

Chapter One — Andrei

Ritmo was as busy as we could have hoped that evening. I caught a glimpse of Uncle Evgeni looking down at the proceedings from the top floor before he disappeared. It made sense that we were busy, after all: we were letting the women in for free, as long as they were in their heels and skirts. We were also giving away free drinks if they brought a hot, young guy in with them—the strict dress code turned away the unwanted ones. In the last three months or so, we'd been able to take this boring beachfront bar and turn it into one of the hottest clubs in the city.

“Have your fun now, Andrei,” my brother Nikolay said with a laugh. “You're on inventory tonight, remember?”

“Oh come on Kolya—that doesn't mean he can't take someone into the bathroom for a quickie!” Dima, my other brother, laughed.

I rolled my eyes at both of them and signaled the waitress for a refill of our drinks. My brothers both did the work when they had to, but they were much happier chasing after girls and lazing about, living the good life. They didn't seem to understand that they couldn't live the good life if they didn't do the work—but then again, they had grown up with our father's first wife in Petersburg, rather than out in the countryside like I had. It was another thing they liked to bring up when they were teasing me: that my hands were too rough for these women, that I needed a broad-hipped woman rather than one of these dainty Spanish girls.

“Inventory needs to get done, and it needs to get done right,” I pointed out, trying not to let their teasing get to me. “At this point, we're too big for little screw-ups on ordering.”

“You know you're just on inventory because you couldn't handle your real responsibilities,” my cousin Vanya said derisively.

I felt my face heat but carefully schooled my features to neutral, knowing that the flush wouldn't be visible here in the club but that my facial expression definitely would be. “They've never given you even a hint of responsibility in the business,” I said sweetly. Vanya was younger than I was, and given that his father was the head of the local mafia, Vanya had always lived a pretty cushy life. “Pretty soon, it'll be your turn to do inventory, I'm sure.”

“I won't have to do inventory,” Vanya said confidently. “I know better than to fuck the daughter of the real estate tycoon that my father spent months trying to woo.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Is it that you know better, or that you know no self-respecting Catalonian woman would ever sleep with you?”

“Hey!” Vanya cried indignantly as Nikolay and Dima cackled. I shrugged unrepentantly. When I had first moved to Barcelona to join my brothers in our uncle's syndicate, I hadn't dared tease Vanya, expecting that Uncle Evgeni would dole out harsh punishments to anyone who dared make fun of his son. But I'd settled in over the past six months, and I was starting to take part in the family bantering that went on. There was a certain sense of camaraderie, all of us Russians here together in a foreign city. I liked it.

“But seriously, why did you have to sleep with that cow?” Nikolay groaned. “Now we're doing all the research again, trying to find a suitable headquarters with a landlord who'll turn a blind eye to whatever we're doing to pay for the place.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you ever see 'that cow'?” I asked him. I leaned in conspiratorially. “Tits out to here,” I said, gesturing lewdly with my hands. The boys all laughed, and I sat back, feeling pleased with myself.

The truth was, I had known better than to sleep with Katarina, but the woman had practically thrown herself at me, and I'd finally had no choice but to take pity on her. I'd expected that she would be so grateful that it would actually make the deal even easier. But of course, her father had been upset that we had “ruined” his beautiful daughter, and he'd refused to have anything else to do with “disgusting Russian pigs.”

I'd expected Evgeni to have me sent off to the homeland after that, back to the fields and dirt where my aunts resided, or at least back to Petersburg where my father's primary residence was. The family had money, and in the time that I'd been in Barcelona, I had gotten used to having unlimited funds at my disposal. But one false move and Evgeni could make my life miserable.

But instead, he'd seemed amused by the whole thing. He'd clapped me on the shoulder. “Now, young Andrei, you see why business and pleasure don't mix,” he had said. “But if I'd known the bitch's legs would open that easily, I'd have chosen the pleasure for myself!”

Still, there was that whole messy fact of the deal going under and months of research (and some unknown amount of money) that had been lost. Evgeni had made it very clear that I needed to be punished for that, and I'd quickly agreed—anything to keep from getting sent back to Russia. I didn't know what I'd expected since I knew that we weren't tied up in any truly shady business. Just some money laundering, some real estate deals, and maybe a weapons deal or two. But I guess I pictured my punishment to be one of those crazy deals like you see in the movies.

Instead, I was on inventory duty at Ritmo, plus cleaning duty for two weeks. All in all, I considered myself to have gotten off lightly. Of course, it didn't feel that way as Dima, Vanya, and finally Nikolay, all pulled leggy, sexy women over the course of the evening and drifted off to have their way with the sluts, leaving me alone with my drinks.

“What are you drinking, water?” a woman asked from my right elbow. I turned and gave her a considering look, noting the low-cut black top and the tight, lipstick-red skirt. She had smoky eyes and long, dark hair that curled softly down her back. Definitely the kind of girl I'd love to take home for the night—only again, I was on inventory. I cursed internally but decided to chat with her anyway, since she was clearly interested. Maybe I could still have that quickie in the bathroom that Dima had teased me about.

I held up my glass. “Vodka, straight,” I told her.

She put her head back and laughed, exposing the long, tanned line of her throat. “Of course you are. You're Russian, aren't you?”

“Is it that obvious?” I asked her dryly. I knew I had a slight accent, and my classic, chiseled features were a dead giveaway.

“You know,” the girl told me, sliding closer—close enough that her ample breasts were grazing my arm. “I've never been with a Russian guy before.”

God, this was going to be too easy. I grinned down at the woman. “Well, you know where I'm from—but what about you? Are you from Barcelona?” I asked her.

The woman laughed again, and I decided I liked the sound, liked the fact that she clearly wasn't shy about making noise. Mm, I could practically hear her screaming my name already.

Of course, if we went for a quickie in the bathroom, we would need to be somewhat discrete. It wouldn't be the first time that that had happened, but I was in enough hot water with my uncle already without causing a scene in the bathroom. I groaned inwardly, not wanting anything to spoil the fuck that I imagined having with...whatever her name was. But the only way to not let anything spoil it was to take her out on a different night.

I knew what the odds were like. She was looking for someone to go home with tonight, and even if I got her number, there was no saying that she'd be feeling as frisky tomorrow, and definitely not later in the week. My chances would diminish the longer it took for me to get her in bed.

But I wanted her in a bed, with the whole night ahead of us. I wanted to fuck her senseless, feel those legs quivering as I pounded her again and again and again.

I was getting hard just thinking about it, and I realized that I wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to what the woman was actually saying. I forced myself to tune back in, right at the point where she asked what I was up to that night.

I grimaced. “I have to work the night shift tonight,” I admitted. It was honestly embarrassing having to admit it. It was embarrassing having to do it. Not that I had anything against hard work, but it wasn't like I was doing this because I needed the money.

“Are you a doctor?” she asked, sounding surprised.

That sounded better than admitting that I was a member of the mafia group that owned this place and that I needed to do inventory and clean the floors that night. I nodded at her. “Yes, a doctor,” I said.

She raised an eyebrow at me. “Should you be drinking all that vodka right before your shift?” she asked.

I shrugged and grinned rakishly at her. “I'm not going into surgery or anything,” I told her. “I just have to be there to...examine people.” I expected her to see through the lie, but she seemed to want to believe it.

“Oh, okay,” she said.

“You know, I'd much rather examine you,” I told her, giving her another obvious once-over. It was such a dumb, cheesy line, but she giggled all the same.

“Maybe another night,” she suggested. She scribbled her number on a napkin. “There, so you can call me,” she said, winking at me as she slipped away towards the crowd. “Have a good night at work...”

Watching her walk away, her hips swaying as she went, was frustrating as anything, especially when I glanced over a few minutes later and saw her chatting with another guy. I could have had her if it wasn't for this stupid inventory shift tonight. I tried to remind myself that this was because of my mistake, that I was here because I had slept with Katarina. But it was small consolation.

Suffice it to say, it put me in a bad mood for doing inventory.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sarah, our bar manager, said as I flung down another box. “I know the glasses and things are wrapped up for shipping, but they're not going to hold up to that.”

I scowled at her. “So we'll order more glasses,” I said.

She raised an eyebrow at me. “The whole point of doing inventory is so that we know what we need to order,” she said. “And hopefully, we won't need to order the things that we already have.”

“Does it really matter?” I asked impatiently. “We're making money now. We can afford a few more glasses.” Sarah gave me a tight-lipped look, and it sparked the anger already there inside me. “You're just some fucking employee,” I reminded her. “You can't tell me what to do. I could have you fired.”

I knew I shouldn't be saying that; the poor girl probably didn't want to be there any more than I did. It wasn't like inventory was some fun thing to do, especially not in the middle of the night. And I could tell from the way she got pale and quiet that she was worried, that she thought I might actually take away her job.

I sighed internally and went back to shuffling around the boxes to be counted, hoping that the way I gentled my actions would count as an apology. We didn't talk for the rest of the shift, each working our way through our own sections of the list.

Chapter Two — Sarah

I looked up from the couch, where I was currently sprawled out, scribbling in one of my business textbooks when Elaine came in. “Uh oh, what's wrong?” I asked, catching sight of her grim expression.

Elaine held up another of the familiar envelopes. “Another one of these taped to our door,” she said. She opened the letter and read it out to me: “If you haven't paid the outstanding balance of your rent, some 1700 euros by the end of this month. We will have no choice but to evict you from your flat, keeping your security deposit and all other monies paid to us thus far.”

I grimaced. “They make it sound like coming up with €1700 in a matter of weeks is easy,” I muttered.

“Well, we were never supposed to get this far behind on our rent,” Elaine pointed out. “And besides, I'm sure that most study abroad students would just call up their parents or whatever and ask them for the money.”

“Yeah, but most study abroad students are, like, 20,” I pointed out. “Not 26 and 27.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “You'd think that by this point, we might have it figured out.”

Elaine laughed. “Yeah, when you suggested studying abroad for grad school, it seemed a lot easier. Remind me why we're here again?” She kicked at part of the chipped tile. “This isn't the glamorous trip to Spain that you sold me on.”

I shrugged. “Be happy that we got into grad school,” I reminded her. We'd both applied to programs back home but had been rejected from all our top choices—competition was apparently stiffer than we'd expected. By the time we'd found out that we had nowhere to go come fall, most places in the US weren't accepting applications anymore.

Not that I minded. I was happy to be here in Spain for the year. But all the same…

“If we just weren't on student visas,” I sighed. “That makes it hard to get work. Or well-paying work, anyway.” Our tuition wasn't very expensive, and nor was our rent, but when you combined the two things, plus all of our daily living expenses like food and utilities, my job at the bar and Elaine's job at the local café weren't giving us nearly enough.

It wasn't like places had to pay very well when they were paying you illegally, under the table.

“Did I tell you I almost got myself fired the other night?” I asked Elaine as she made her way into the tiny kitchen area and put the kettle on.

“No!” she said. “What did you do?”

“I was doing inventory with one of the Russian dudes, this guy Andrei. I think he's like, a cousin or something. I don't know. Anyway, he's family with the owners of the bar, and so there we were, doing inventory together, and I was stupid enough to tell him to quit dropping all the boxes 'cause I was afraid he was actually going to break something in one of them. And he went off on how I was just another employee and had no right to tell him what to do, and then he threatened to fire me.”

“Yikes,” Elaine said, shaking her head. “I still don't get why there are so many Russians involved in that business. Isn't this Spain?”

I laughed. “And aren't we Americans?” I asked.

“Right, but if we couldn't get our working visas, how do you think those guys did?” Elaine mused. “What's it like working for them anyway?”

I shrugged. “Regarding their visas, I don't ask questions,” I said. “Might find out something that I really don't want to know.”

Elaine laughed. “What, you think they're like, part of the mafia?”

“Wouldn't surprise me,” I said, shrugging. “But then again, I probably just think that because of their accents. They're not bad to work for, really. They've got obscene amounts of money, though. I know they don't pay full price for their drinks, but they're drinking pretty much constantly. They always come and go in really nice cars, and their suits, oh man. Really nice tailored suits.”

“One too many Hollywood movies,” Elaine agreed, nodding her head. “They're kind of hot though, don't you think? Not like those big, fat mafia dudes in the movies. They don't even have the gaudy chains or anything.”

I snorted. “Andrei's got an earring. Diamond, no doubt.”

Unbidden, an image of Andrei from the other night came into my mind. As he'd moved around those boxes, his muscles had been obvious, bulging beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. I'd almost wished it was a little warmer in there, that he'd taken the shirt off so that I could get a really good look at his no-doubt chiseled abs and strong arms. I had already seen the tattoos that he had scattered around his arms, and I wondered how far they went, if they were all over his chest and back as well?

I shook my head: that was dangerous territory. “I really don't want to lose this job,” I sighed. I couldn't start fantasizing about Andrei; I knew he was a player, and I doubted he'd want me around Ritmo if we had fucked. He'd expect me to get jealous and to interrupt his conquests or something.

Not that I really wanted to sleep with him anyway. He was an ass. Just, an attractive ass. If he was part of the Russian mob though, he could probably have me killed when he got sick of me. The thought made me shudder.

“We're going to have to become prostitutes or something,” Elaine sighed, tapping her fingers on the counter as she stared down at the notebook that she kept her budget in. “There's no way we're going to be able to make up all that money this month otherwise.” She cracked a smile. “There's good money in prostitution, right? And I bet it fits around a class schedule pretty well, although maybe not your work schedule.”

I shook my head. “I can't even imagine being desperate enough to become a prostitute. Especially not for a place like this.” When we'd first moved into our place, I'd been so excited about it that I hadn't cared about how shabby the place was. But in the past months, as rent had spiraled further and further out of our control, I'd started to resent the chipped paint and the rough tiles. The fact that the faucet in the kitchen leaked incessantly, the fact that Elaine and I only had curtains to separate our “rooms” from the main living area.

“Well, maybe not prostitution,” Elaine said. “But like, one of those massage parlors would probably hire us, right? You know, the kind where they give a happy ending. I bet dudes tip pretty well for that kind of thing too. And it would work better with your bar schedule, give you something to do during the day.”

I snorted. “You mean, other than going to the classes, which are the whole reason that I'm over here anyway?” I asked. “I'm not whacking someone off for cash. Even if it does tip well.” I couldn't even imagine it. Elaine had always been more...sexual than I was. Sure, I appreciated attractive dudes like Andrei. But I could count on one hand the number of guys that I had actually gone home with. I just wasn't that type of girl.

“Come on, I bet it doesn't take much,” Elaine said. “That's the whole point of a happy-ending massage, right? They're already so keyed up from the massage that you just give them, a couple quick strokes and they're already coming. Boom, just like that.”

I felt a blush creep across my face and was glad that she was making her tea and not focusing on me. “If you want to do that, be my guest,” I told her. “But you'd better start looking for a new roommate—or make a lot in tips—because I am going to spend the month focusing on finding a new place to live.”

Elaine sighed. “You're no fun,” she said. But she was smiling fondly as she said it. “But seriously, what are we going to do? It's not like we're living in a palace at the moment. The whole reason we chose this place was that it was cheap as shit. If we can't even afford this, we're never going to be able to afford somewhere else. And as much as you might like the idea of being like one of those Greek philosophers and living in a box on the street, devoting your life to acquiring knowledge, that's not me.”

I rubbed at my temples and closed my textbook, knowing I wasn't going to be able to focus on it now. I wished that she hadn't brought this up, but I also knew that she was right, we did need to start brainstorming ways to solve this. We'd been putting it off for long enough—long enough that we had accumulated 1700 euros worth of debt to our landlord.

“I don't want to live in a box either,” I said, as though that were really a question. “I guess I can try to ask for a raise at work, but even if they give me that, we're going to probably have to negotiate with the landlord,” I said slowly. “I'm not going to make 1700 euros over the course of a few weeks unless I get paid a huge raise.”

“I could ask for a raise too,” Elaine said. “But it's not like the café really makes that much money to begin with. And I'm kind of scared that if I ask for the raise, they're going to replace me with someone willing to work for even less. It's not like I have any particular skills for my job.”

“Yeah, at least Ritmo's starting to take off,” I said. “I was getting kind of worried when I first started working there. But they're busy most nights now.” I frowned. “It's actually pretty cool, being there and watching the place grow.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Elaine said. “But you're not going to be there much longer if we can't find some way to pay rent!”

“I would say we could stop being students, but that's the whole reason we were able to come over here for a year to begin with,” I sighed. “Plus, can you even imagine trying to tell people back home?”

“There has to be some way to do this, though,” Elaine said. “People do it, right?”

I shrugged. “I think everyone else got scholarships,” I reminded her. “But by the time we knew we were coming here, it was too late to get scholarships.”

“Should've deferred for a year and saved up some cash,” Elaine sighed.

“Too late for that now.”

“Too late for that now,” Elaine echoed in agreement. She grinned at me over the rim of her mug of tea. “So I guess the only thing to do is happy-ending massages!”

I laughed and shook my head. “For the last time, no.” I frowned. “We'll figure something out.” We had to, after all. I wasn't going home because of this.

Chapter Three — Andrei

I looked around the mostly-empty bar, feeling disappointed even though, rationally, I knew that it was a Wednesday night and it wasn't a surprise for things to be so empty. All the locals would have been out at Apollo on Monday and Tuesday, and everyone would be gearing up for Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights in the rest of the city. Wednesdays were usually pretty quiet.

Still, after seeing Ritmo so busy over the weekend, I couldn't help feeling that the place seemed even more strikingly empty that night.

Sarah was on the bar again that night, and I wondered if she worked every night. She seemed to be there every night that I was, anyway. If so, it was no wonder that she'd been so worried when I'd threatened her job the other night: she must really be desperate if she was willing to put up with drunken shenanigans every night. I'd never even seen her have a drink on the job.

I wondered if she thought she wasn't allowed to drink on the job.

I hopped up on one of the stools at the counter, watching as Sarah cleaned some glasses. “What's your story anyway?” I asked her.

Sarah looked startled, her hands pausing where they were wiping one of the glasses dry. Slowly, her hands started moving again.

She had nice hands, I realized, and I could picture them running down my body, stroking my member… I broke off that line of thought before it was fully-fledged. Was Sarah hot? Definitely. I had a thing for a woman in sky-high heels, especially a woman who could work, for hours at a time, in sky-high heels. But the whole reason I'd had to do inventory the other night was still stuck in my head, and I remembered Uncle Evgeni's warning about how business and pleasure didn't mix. Sure, I didn't own Ritmo, but I was there often enough that I didn't need to make things awkward.

Even if I didn't plan on ever having to do inventory with Sarah again.

“I'm a student at the university,” Sarah finally said cautiously.

“I thought you were older than that,” I said in surprise. It was a stupid thing to say; maybe she'd just taken time off before starting school.

Sarah laughed, though. “I'm a grad student,” she said.

“Why Barcelona?” I asked. It wasn't exactly that I was curious, but talking to her was a way to pass the time until someone better came along or until I gave up the hunt for someone to warm my bed that night.

Sarah shrugged and looked off to the side, and I got the feeling she wasn't telling me the truth when she said, “Beaches and boys, that's what everyone wants in their college experience, right?”

I frowned at her, but I didn't feel like prying to find out what the real reason was. I drummed my fingers against the bar.

“I wouldn't have thought you'd be talking to me,” Sarah said suddenly.

I cocked my head to the side. “Why not?

She shrugged. “You were pretty rude the other night.” Then, she winced, looking immediately as though she regretted having said the words. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “Please, don't fire me for that. Like I said, I'm just surprised, that's all.”

I laughed. “I'm not going to have you fired,” I told her. “I figure you must be pretty desperate for money if you're willing to work so many hours here.”

She shrugged again, looking embarrassed. “Between rent and tuition, I'm barely scraping by,” she admitted. “Actually my friend and I are...in search of a new place at the moment.”

I thought of my sprawling beach house. Thanks to the family funds I always had at my disposal, I'd been able to pick from some of the best places in the city. But I imagined it must be infinitely harder to move to a city by yourself, without family to back you up.

“I'm sorry I was so rude the other night,” I apologized. “To be honest, it was partly that I had this hot woman chatting me up and had to give it a pass because of the inventory stuff. I was just in a bad mood.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, but I could see the hint of a smile at the corners of her lips. “Yes, because heaven forbid that there should be even one night where the Russian stallion doesn't get laid.”

“The Russian stallion?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow at her. There was something pleasant about watching her face slowly flush a bright, hot red. Before I could tease her further, though, my cousin Alexei appeared at my elbow and jerked his head towards one of the booths in the back of the bar. I sighed inwardly and followed him back there, wondering what was going on now. Surely Uncle Evgeni wouldn't be ready again to entrust me with anything else, no matter how gracefully I may have taken my punishment.

Alexei took a sip of his dark beer, and I had to fight to keep from squirming when he didn't immediately say anything to me. But I knew this game, this power trip, and I wasn't going to impatiently ask him what was going on. Best to sit there, stare coolly back at him, and wait for whatever it was.

After a long moment, Alexei nodded approvingly at me and then said, “How have you been settling in, cousin?”

I shrugged, wondering if this was really just a social call. Where Vanya came out with my brothers and I frequently, though, Alexei was much more reclusive.

“Uncle asked me to let you know that we're expanding the business further south,” Alexei said, and I blinked over at him. I was even more surprised when he continued, though: “There's a package that he wants you to deliver.”

I frowned. “Isn't he still mad at me?” I asked.

Alexei shrugged broadly. “He can be mad at you and still assign you work, can't he?”

“Well yeah, of course he can,” I said, feeling flustered. I hated that I was still so new to all of this, that Alexei and my brothers all had years of experience dealing with Uncle Evgeni and the matters of the syndicate. I felt almost as green as Vanya.

“We're still working on finding a new spot for our headquarters,” he continued. I listened with half an ear as he detailed how that search was going, dropping some small hints that he was displeased to be redoing much of the work that he'd already done on the previous place that we'd almost had, the one that I'd messed up.

My eyes were drawn back to the bar, where Sarah was working. For some reason, my attention was fixed on her that evening. She had personality, I had to give her that. I couldn't remember the last time a woman had told me off like she had, for my rudeness. And that blush of hers, hinting at an inner sweetness that I had yet to explore.

I frowned as I saw her chatting with one of the regulars, this guy named Steve. He was a big guy, burly, and not at all like the rest of the crowd that Ritmo brought in, but he dressed in tailored suits and tipped well, so we had no reason to kick him out. I tried to remember if I had seen him chatting with any other women at the bar before, but to be honest, I hadn't paid much attention to him.

I felt a strange surge of jealousy, seeing that he was talking to Sarah. Which was ridiculous, I knew. I had barely had a conversation with the sexy bartender. And besides, she must know by now that he tipped well, and she had mentioned those financial woes before. She was probably just angling to get a big tip from him so that she could afford to pay her rent.

But I wanted to go over there, to interrupt the two of them, especially when it became clear that Steve, at least, was angling for something more with her. It was obvious in the way that he was leaning towards her, his face animated, the way that he made her laugh.

“Cousin, what are we going to do with you?” Alexei asked, clucking his tongue at me, and my eyes jolted back to him. I realized I had totally lost track of what he was saying, and I was sure that my lapse in attention—and the reason for it—had been noticed.

I took a large sip of my own beer, trying to figure out what to say.

“Is the motherland empty of girls?” Alexei asked mildly. “You act like you've never seen one before.” I sputtered, and he roared with laughter. When he finally calmed down, he shook his head. “Be careful,” he warned. “Uncle has given you another chance. Don't fuck up again or he won't be so kind.”

“Has he sent people back to Russia before?” I asked curiously.

“Of course he has,” Alexei said derisively. “What kind of boss would he be if he hadn't? We pay the cops off, but they're not going to turn a blind eye for long if there are too many mistakes causing people to ask questions.”

I nodded, turning that over in my mind. I wished I could ask more about the syndicate, about Uncle Evgeni, but I wasn't sure how much I was allowed to ask. Part of what made the feeling of brotherhood so strong was the trust implicit in it. Asking questions might be considered a sign that I wasn't sure I trusted the others, and that lack of trust would certainly get me sent back home.

We chatted for a little while about the expansion, and Steve was still talking to Sarah. I was relieved when Alexei suddenly stood up and announced that we would close early for the night. “This place is dead,” he said in disgust, gesturing around at the mostly-empty bar.

“It's been good on other nights,” I said, feeling almost defensive about the place.

Alexei rolled his eyes. “I know that,” he said. “Just because I'm not here, it doesn't mean that I'm missing anything. You will need to learn, Andrei, to have eyes everywhere and your finger on the pulse-point of this city.”

I wanted to laugh at that, but I knew he was serious. Instead, I worked on finishing my beer as he closed down the bar.

I was one of the last people out, and I locked the building behind me. When I turned towards the curb, I saw that Sarah and Steve were still there, and that Steve had just opened the door to a taxi. My mouth twisted bitterly: apparently their chatting over the course of the night had led to something more, then. I didn't know why I hated that idea so much, but I supposed it was that old adage about wanting what you knew you couldn't have.

Of course, it was also frustrating because Steve was a snake, a member of one of the rival gangs in the city. They'd been eyeing Ritmo before Uncle Evgeni snapped it up. He shouldn't have been there at all, and we all knew the only reason Steve was one of our more loyal regulars was because he was keeping an eye on us and keeping tabs on the club for his boss.

It would have been more effort than it was worth to kick him out. We didn't need to start a gang war in the middle of Barcelona; the local police wouldn't be able to turn a blind eye to that. We decided to just keep an eye on him, but now I wondered whether we shouldn't have made some sort of stink about him being there.

I'd have to talk to Evgeni about it. But for now, I had to protect Sarah.

“Steve, I said no,” Sarah said, though, pressing her hand against the man's chest and trying to push him away from her.

“Oh come on, we both know you could use a good fuck,” Steve growled, trying to force Sarah into the cab.

I moved before I had even fully processed the situation. “She said no, dick,” I snapped, grabbing Steve's wrist tightly enough that he had to let go of Sarah's arm. Steve, in turn, tried to punch me, but he was drunk, and he wasn't quick enough. I shoved him back away from Sarah, and he stumbled away, looking enraged.

“This is none of your business,” he snarled.

“Sarah is one of our managers,” I said angrily.

“We're two consenting adults,” Steve said.

I laughed derisively. “Didn't look like she was consenting to shit,” I said.

Steve lunged at me, fists swinging wildly. I easily dodged his drunken flails and just shoved him out of the way. I had better things to do than to brawl in the streets, especially right in front of my family's establishment. If Uncle Evgeni caught wind of this, I doubted he would be pleased, even if I told him that I was just defending Sarah.

But Steve luckily managed to catch a glancing blow to my cheekbone, and that was enough to spur me on. I decked him squarely in the temple so that he crumpled to the ground. Then, I hefted him up and pushed him into the cab like that, somewhat surprised that the guy was still sitting there. But then again, his rear door had been open the whole time, and he'd probably been too scared to get in the way by closing it.

I dug through Steve's pockets and came out with his wallet. I plucked out one of his credit cards and handed it to the driver. “Drive him around until he wakes up and tells you where he lives,” I instructed.

The scared-looking cabbie nodded, and they drove off.

I turned back towards Sarah, who was huddled in her coat, looking scared. “Thanks,” she said immediately.

“Are you okay?” I asked her. “He didn't hurt you, did he?”

“Might have some bruises tomorrow, but I'm okay,” she said. “That's way better than it could have been.”

I nodded and then took a step closer, realizing that there were a few stray tears falling down her cheeks, gleaming wetly in the streetlights. I wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but I wasn't sure how she would take that since Steve's unwanted advances had been what upset her in the first place. Still–

“Why don't I walk you home?” I suggested.

Sarah shook her head. “I'm all right,” she said, bravely gathering herself.

“Come on, you probably don't want to be alone right now,” I reasoned.

“I live pretty far away,” she said, shaking her head.

I shrugged. “I've got nothing better to do,” I said. “Or you could come back to my place instead. It's not far from here.” I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth; no doubt, she thought I was trying to get in her pants, just the same way Steve had been. That wasn't what I meant at all, I just really did want to...comfort her.

It was a strange feeling. But then again, I had sisters. I could only hope that someone would comfort them if they were in the same situation. Of course, if they had been the ones in Sarah's situation, I would have killed the bastard who dared put his hands on her.

“I'm all right,” Sarah said again, her face totally closed off. And I knew I couldn't keep pressing her or else it made me no better than Steve. Finally, reluctantly, I shrugged.

“Have a good night,” I told her.

Sarah nodded and turned away down the street.

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