Emily 

I knew Nikolai was a bad boy, but I had no idea that he and his family was involved in anything this dangerous.  I was kidnapped by their rival gang all over some war about territory. It didn’t have anything to do with me in the first place!  I had no idea what these guys were planning for me, but I knew it was nothing good.  You know, what worried me the most was that I didn’t even know if Nikolai was going to come and save me, or if I was just another notch in the bedpost to be tossed aside. Nikolai

I knew Uncle was playing with fire when he sent me out on that job in the middle of enemy territory.  But I never suspected these guys would be crazy enough to retaliate by kidnapping Emily.  I don’t know what it is about her, I could have anyone I want, but with her I’m like a moth to a flame, and that was Audaz’s worst mistake. They screwed with the wrong Volkov, and whether I get help from the family or not, I’m going after her.  Hold on Emily, I’m coming for you!

Chapter One – Nikolai

Diego knew how to throw a good party, I reflected as we stumbled along towards Ritmo. It took a lot to get Russians drunk, yet he had managed it before we’d even reached our final stop for the night. Dima, my younger brother, started singing a bawdy love song in loud, slurred Russian, and half the party—the Russian half—joined in, prompting a flurry of Catalan curses overhead. A woman dumped a bucket of water off a high balcony, narrowly missing the group, and we spun away laughing.

A typical night in Barcelona, surrounded by good friends.

I grinned: and about to get even better, as I saw the line of sexy girls trying to get into Ritmo. If there were this many hotties outside, the inside had to be hopping.

We cruised to the front of the line, one of the perks of being related to the owner. When Uncle Evgeni had bought this place, it had seemed too good to be true: a prime beachfront locale in Barcelona, with interesting architecture just ready to be turned into a hot club with multiple dancefloors, alcoves, bars, and more. It was a wonder that the previous managers had never been able to turn it into anything.

Evgeni had relied heavily on us for inspiration for the place. Well, on Andrei mostly; Dima and I usually just showed up to his meetings to drink our way through the vodka that he kept stocked there. But Andrei had always been the good kid.

I smirked over at Andrei, my youngest brother, watching as his eyes slid past the girls on the dancefloor and locked on the woman behind the bar. He was totally whipped; I hadn’t seen him have any fun since he’d started dating Sarah. Then again, that was the hazard of fucking a coworker of sorts. He couldn’t have fun at Ritmo anymore; he would have to go elsewhere or else cause serious amounts of drama.

I would never be like that.

“That group,” Dima said, nudging me. It wasn’t hard to see where he was looking: there was an eclectic group in one of the back alcoves. I’d think they were friends except for the awkward way a couple of them were sipping their drinks and looking around before their eyes darted back towards the group. Conversation didn’t seem to be flowing; no one really seemed like they were having fun.

I wondered whether Dima was indicating them because of the three bombshells in the middle of the group, or because he thought that as Evgeni’s nephews, we had a duty to go over there and liven up their night. Either way, I was in.

Especially if it meant I got to go home with the ice queen in the center. I didn’t know her yet, and there was a chance that her personality was better than it seemed, but she definitely had a strong case of resting bitch face. Or maybe she just didn’t want to be there. Whatever it was, her light-colored eyes were narrowed, and as I watched, she mussed up her short, blonde hair, looking longingly at the dance floor.

Oh honey, if you want to dance, you don’t have to ask, I thought.

I nudged Dima right back. “The blonde is mine,” I told him.

Dima sighed. “You always pick the hottest one,” he complained.

“I’m the oldest,” I reminded him smugly. “Now, are you going to be my wingman, or are you going to find your own group to try your luck with?”

Dima shook his head and nodded at me. I nodded to Diego. “It’s been a great night, but I’m afraid Dima and I are not the ones getting married on Sunday, and as such, we are not going home alone tonight.”

Diego grinned at us. “I expected you might make a move once we got here,” he said, looking loose and relaxed, his veins likely filled with more alcohol than blood. I admired him for even trying to keep up with us that night. But then again, he’d had a bit of practice, in the years that we’d known him.

Diego was one of my best friends in Barcelona. I’d met him the week that I’d moved there, when he’d tried to steal my wallet out of my pocket. When I’d questioned why an apparently affluent Spanish man would do such a thing, he’d just shrugged and said he was bored.

Suffice it to say, I’d been able to keep his life interesting since then. Granted, he would never be a full member of the mafia given that he wasn’t Russian, but Evgeni had adopted him into the fold and used his skills over the years. I wondered how much of that would change now that the man was getting married.

But for now, I shook my head to clear it, squared my shoulders, and walked confidently across the bar to the group of women.

“All right,” I said, clapping my hands together as I reached their table, “who’s doing shots with my brother and I? My treat.”

The girls looked at one another, and it was almost as though they each wanted to agree but were, for some reason, nervous about it. What a weird group. “I don’t think so,” one of the women finally piped up—not my blonde one, fortunately.

I sighed and put a hand over my heart. “You wound me,” I said. I slung an arm around Dima’s shoulders, drawing him forwards. “But you see, it’s my brother’s birthday, and it’s my brotherly duty to help him get good and drunk. And to find someone for him to dance with.”

Again, the girls looked uncertain. “Oh come on,” one of the brunettes finally said, putting her palms face-down on the table as she looked keenly around at the rest of the girls. “I know we said that we were just coming here for a few drinks, but there’s no reason why we can’t do a little dancing as well, is there?”

There were a few reluctant murmurs of agreement around the table. The brunette stood up and came to stand next to me. “Well, if none of the rest of you are game, I am. I’ll see you chickens at work on Monday.”

Oh. The realization suddenly struck me: they were coworkers. No wonder things were so awkward between them. I had to stifle a smile. It was going to be easy to get the blonde woman to leave behind her friends for the night and come home with me. If girls were out with their friends, they always had that pesky sense of protection for everyone else, wanting to make sure that everyone made it home okay at the end of the night. But if they were just coworkers, then it was understood that each person would fend for themselves and that they would see each other on Monday to compare tales of the end of the night.

Not that most of these women seemed like the type to have a rocking end to the night. I started to wonder if maybe Dima and I should have chosen different prey. I knew that we could take them home, of course; I basically never had to worry about striking out at the bar. But it might be more effort than it was worth.

Still, with the brunette firmly on our side, the others started to waver and stand up as well.

“I think I’m just going to go home,” the other brunette said, faking a yawn.

“Oh come on, Rachael,” the blonde girl said, rolling her eyes, and I had to stifle a smile at that. With how game she was to do shots and the way that her eyes lingered on me, I knew that it was going to be no problem taking her home with me.

Sure enough, by the time I got her out on the dancefloor, she was giggly and flirtatious, her hands roaming over my chest and finally settling behind my neck, leaving me with no choice but to rest my hands on her hips—not that I wanted to put them anywhere else. Especially since she didn’t seem to mind as I let them slide lower until they rested on her curved behind.

Mmm, there were so many ways that I wanted to take her already.

One of the things that I loved about dancing with a woman is that they usually felt like you were getting to know one another, for some reason, even if the only information that you’d exchanged was your names. So amusing…

I let Emily keep dancing for a while, but I knew better than to let her tire herself out already. Instead, I leaned in close to her ear. “You know, I have a very nice bottle of wine back home, if you were interested in moving this to someplace more private.”

To my surprise, Emily froze, staring at me with wide eyes, as though this ending to the night had never occurred to her. She looked around, as though she was suddenly becoming aware that her coworkers were still all around her, dancing with various people or one another. I realized Dima wasn’t with them and spared a thought to wonder where he had gone off to and if he had managed to snag one of the coworkers already. If so, I was impressed.

But for now, I focused on Emily. “You can’t tell me that you don’t want this,” I said, emphasizing my words by grinding against her, knowing that she could feel how interested I had become as we were dancing together.

She pulled away, though. “I’m not like that, okay?” she said.

I rolled my eyes. “What, you never have sex?” I asked, knowing that that couldn’t be true. The way that she’d been swinging her hips on the dancefloor was positively sinful; there was no way she’d never been fucked before. She had to know exactly what she did to men.

“I can’t leave my friends,” she said stubbornly.

I snorted. “Aren’t they your coworkers?”

“Even more reason why I can’t just leave them,” Emily said.

“Why, because you’re afraid that they’ll know you went home with an attractive guy?” I asked. God, women were so ridiculous sometimes.

Emily stood up tall. “If you don’t stop bothering me, I’m going to call security and have you thrown out,” she said frostily.

I laughed. “Go ahead and try,” I told her. “I practically own this place.”

For a moment, Emily looked uncertain, but then she scowled at me. “If that’s so, then maybe I’ll have to quit coming here!” She spun on her heel and stormed out, and for a moment, I actually felt bad, like I had done something wrong.

But that was ridiculous. I had made my intentions clear the whole night, and she had as well. It wasn’t my fault that she had suddenly decided that she had morals and that she couldn’t go home with me.

I shook my head and headed for the bar. If I wasn’t going to get laid that night, after getting all worked up and horny, I was going to need some strong alcohol to put me to sleep. I glanced around, wondering whether there were any other females that I should attempt to go after, but it was getting late, and most of the attractive ones had already paired off.

I knocked back a triple-shot of vodka and then grabbed my coat, heading out into the chilly autumn night.

Chapter Two – Emily

My head was throbbing, and my first thought upon waking was, thank God I didn’t have to teach that day. I wasn’t sure that I would have been able to manage it.

I thought back to the previous night, wondering what had gone wrong. Shots, I remembered. Those Russian guys had come over and convinced us all to do shots with them. And I had had not only one vodka shot, but also Tina’s shot, when she had realized that it was vodka. She might not drink vodka, but I certainly did, especially when I was already feeling so awkward and bored with the whole thing.

And especially when there was a hot Russian guy standing there looking like he wanted to devour me.

I shivered all over as I thought back to Nikolai. Hmm, there was a thought to make the hangover go away, or at least to make it more bearable. I’d been drawn in instantly by those classic features: the strong jaw and the piercing blue eyes. We hadn’t had a chance to talk very much; it had been too loud in Ritmo for that. But from what he’d said, I could imagine how deep and husky his voice would become when he talked dirty, how he would growl as he threw me back onto the bed…

Unbidden, my hand crept down between my legs. Then, I paused, feeling embarrassed.

I hadn’t come to Barcelona looking for a one-night stand. I had to focus: I liked my job, and I wasn’t about to lose it. I should never have gone out to the bar the previous night, and I definitely shouldn’t have had so much to drink. There were placement tests to grade and lessons to plan. The school hadn’t had its bilingual program for long, and it was clear that the previous teacher hadn’t had much experience in curriculum planning. I basically had to come up with a new plan from scratch.

But I didn’t mind the work. I got to work with adorable 5- and 6-year-olds, who would hopefully grow up through the program, with a couple lessons a week in each art, music, P.E., and science, so that by the time they were ready to go to university, they would already be fluent in English. It was an amazing idea, and I was so excited to get to work on that.

Beyond that, this was the first time that I’d been able to net a job in a major city that I wanted to live in. Because I didn’t have a European passport, I had had to gain experience teaching ESL in places where they were desperate for teachers or where visa requirements were a little less strict. That had meant taking a couple years teaching in Asia, followed by a couple years in small villages in Eastern Europe.

There were so many reasons that I wanted this position to work out, and I couldn’t afford to get distracted by a guy. And I definitely didn’t need all my coworkers to see me in such a…compromising position.

I blushed just thinking about it, and I slowly withdrew my hand from my panties.

I sighed as the throbbing in my skull worsened. Fortunately, I had left a full bottle of water and two aspirin tablets on my nightstand. Thank you, drunk Emily, I thought sarcastically. Might have been wiser to just, you know, not do all the vodka shots, but at least I had kind of taken care of myself.

And at least I didn’t have work today.

I rolled out of bed a little while later and stumbled into a hot shower, wishing that something would cure my hangover. Wishing that I could get the sexy Nikolai out of my head as well…

Finally, I decided to head up to Mont Juïc that afternoon with my art supplies. It was one of my favorite spots in the city: never too busy if you knew where to go, and it offered magnificent views of the Barcelona skyline. You could see everything, from the spires of Sagrada Familia to all of the fancy office buildings. The only place to get a better view, really, was from out on the water, but I didn’t make enough with my painting (or my teaching) to warrant hiring a boat every time I wanted to go paint!

I smiled a little at the thought, collected my things, and headed up the hill. Fortunately, it wasn’t a very long walk, although it was a bit steep in places. One of the perks of living near La Rambla was that I was pretty central to everything. I had lucked out in finding a studio apartment in that area for so cheap, but as I understood it, my landlord had had problems with the previous person, so he’d just been happy when I’d been able to pay the first three months’ rent upfront.

I sighed as I settled into my spot in the park, taking a sip of the tea that I’d brought with me in a thermos. It sure was beautiful up there, and already I was starting to feel better about my day. Of course, this still wasn’t the productive workday that I needed to have, but if I could power through enough work the next day, then I’d be fine. I didn’t need to turn in the full year’s curriculum just yet anyway.

I mixed a couple colors on my palette and then started painting the background in slow, soothing brush strokes, feeling myself relax as I did so. At least until-

“Fancy seeing you here.” That smug, Russian-accented voice…

I looked up, seeing Nikolai smirking down at me, and for a moment, my brain clicked offline. Oh God… If I’d thought that he was sexy the night before, it was nothing compared to how he looked right now, dressed in tight-fitting running shorts and no shirt. There was a thin sheen of sweat coating his tanned, washboard abs. I felt a tug of lust in my gut, and I fought it down, along with the blush that came with it.

“Are you all right?” Nikolai asked, and I could tell from his amused tone that he knew exactly what was wrong with me. Especially because…

I hurriedly snapped my eyes back up to his, aware that I’d been staring. Sure enough, he was laughing at me.

I swallowed hard. “I’m a bit hungover, actually,” I admitted, my mouth feeling parched. “I’m…not really processing properly.” As though that explained why I’d been staring.

“Sure,” Nikolai said easily, dropping onto the bench next to me as though he belonged there. Which I supposed he did, as much as the next person, because this was a public park and Nikolai was the public, and-

I had to shut my brain off somehow.

“What are you painting?” Nikolai asked, nodding at the canvas in front of me.

“It’s going to be the skyline, but I’m starting with the background,” I told him.

“Oh,” Nikolai said. “And you, what, sell those pictures to tourists?”

I blushed again. “No!” I said. “I just…paint them for myself, I guess. Sometimes I give them away as gifts. But I just like painting. I’m a teacher, that’s my job.” I paused and then blurted out what I really wanted to know: “So are you following me or something?” How was it that in a city as large as Barcelona, we had just happened to bump into one another?

Nikolai laughed, though. “I wouldn’t know where to follow you from,” he pointed out. “You didn’t even let me walk you home last night.

I wanted to feel indignant at the fact that he thought I needed someone to walk me home, but there was another part of me that appreciated the thought of someone strong and caring—not to mention sexy—walking me home at the end of the night. But I knew that Nikolai probably would have pushed it, that he would have tried to come up to my apartment with me. And anyway, I didn’t need the girls from work to see me leave with him, because even if he really was just walking me home, they’d infer something more.

“I’m not having sex with you,” I blurted out.

Nikolai looked taken aback. Which, of course he did, since my outburst was totally unfounded. For yet another time, I felt myself start to blush as Nikolai laughed. “Duly noted,” he said. “But how about we go get coffee?”

I shook my head vehemently. “I’m…busy,” I said weakly, gesturing towards my painting.

“Coffee is the perfect cure for a hangover, though,” Nikolai said sagely. “And just imagine how much better your painting would be if it didn’t feel like someone was shoving spikes into your skull…”

“You sound like you have some experience with this,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Russians don’t get hungover,” Nikolai said. “But alas, now I am used to drinking with Catalonians.”

“And they get hungover?”

“They pass out in alleyways,” Nikolai sighed. “One of the greatest laments about this country.”

“Why are you here anyway?” I asked curiously. “I mean, why not in Russia?”

“The Volkov family has been in Barcelona for a few generations now,” Nikolai said, his eyes shifting away from mine. He didn’t seem interested in elaborating.

I frowned. “How about this: I’ll go to coffee with you if you tell me why your family decided to settle in Barcelona,” I told him.

Nikolai laughed, but there was something more than amusement in the tone. Whatever it was, I couldn’t put a finger on it, though. “You would have to do more than go out for coffee with me if you wanted to know what my family does here in Barcelona,” he said.

“Something illegal, then?” I asked shrewdly.

“Get coffee with me,” Nikolai suggested.

“All right,” I found myself agreeing. I knew this wasn’t the kind of thing to get myself tangled up in, but at the same time, my curiosity was piqued. I packed away my art supplies and followed Nikolai down the hill, grateful when he took some of the bulkier items out of my hands.

Even though I lived near there, he seemed to know the area better than I did, and he quickly found a cute little café for us which was surprisingly empty for this hour on a Saturday. I looked consideringly over at Nikolai after we had placed our orders. “So you know this city pretty well?”

Nikolai shrugged and grabbed his coffee from the counter. “I’ve lived here for almost ten years now,” he said. “I moved here to live with my uncle right after I finished what you would call high school.”

“So you didn’t go to college?” I asked.

“It wasn’t important,” Nikolai said. “If I had stayed in Russia, I would have taken some sort of trade job, probably. Our family owns a lot of farmland. And here…” He trailed off, hinting again at that strange reason for his family’s presence there in Barcelona.

But that wasn’t what I focused on right then. Instead, I laughed. “I can’t picture you as a farmer,” I told him truthfully.

Nikolai shook his head. “I never wanted to work on the farms,” he said. “My younger brother, Andrei, helped out far more than I did. That’s why he only moved here to Barcelona a little while ago. I always wanted something more.” He paused. “Even growing up, I didn’t spend a lot of time in the countryside. My father had apartments in Petersburg, and I lived there for the most part.”

“Wow, St. Petersburg,” I said. “I’d love to go there sometime.”

“Why?” Nikolai asked curiously. “Not that it isn’t a beautiful city, but you don’t meet many Americans who want to travel there.”

I shrugged. “I guess I’m not like most Americans,” I said. “I’ve been teaching English abroad for a while now, first in Asia—Thailand and then Mongolia—and now Europe. I spent last year in Hungary and the one before that in Poland, and the one before that, I was in some podunk village in the Czech Republic. The Eastern European culture is really fascinating.”

“But you, like me, have chosen Spain instead,” Nikolai said, grinning at me. He shook his head. “Mongolia, not many people choose to travel there.”

I laughed. “They hired me, and I figured that since I didn’t really know anything about the place, I might as well go!” I said. “It was cold. Very beautiful, but very cold.”

“Russia is colder,” Nikolai said. “In some parts, anyway.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I said. I cocked my head to the side. “So now you know that I’m an English teacher. What do you do here in the city?”

Nikolai shrugged. “As I mentioned last night, I practically own Ritmo,” he said. “It’s part of the family business. I don’t have to work.”

“What, you just have oodles of money laying around that you have access to?” I asked sarcastically, expecting that it must be some sort of joke. I could tell that he was well off, of course, but surely he had to do some kind of work for it. Business meetings or consultations or something?

But Nikolai just smiled at me. I shook my head and took a sip of my coffee, trying to hide how impressed I was.

Impressed? That’s stupid; it’s not like he’s had to do anything to get that money, I thought. But I couldn’t help it. Here was a sexy, rich dude who wanted to have coffee with me… It was like something out of a movie.

Of course, I thought sourly, as soon as I had sex with him, he’d never want to see me again. Still, as the conversation turned to his hobbies and what he did in Barcelona since he wasn’t working, I had to admit that I found him interesting. Maybe sleeping with him wouldn’t be the worst thing that I could do.

I pushed that thought out of my mind immediately, reminding myself that I needed to stay focused. In fact, now that I was feeling a little better, I should head home and work on that curriculum…

But despite knowing that I should do that, I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

Chapter Three – Nikolai

Friday morning, I woke up hard and aching, rutting against my mattress in an attempt to find some relief. I groaned and felt around for my phone, peering at it. It was the third morning that week that I’d woken up from a sexy dream about Emily.

It was stupid, really. Was she attractive? Sure. But was she the most attractive woman in Barcelona? Of course not. She had nice curves, that was all, and a pretty face. But what made her so attractive to my subconscious, I knew, was the fact that she refused to sleep with me.

I sighed and shook my head. It was finally Friday, at least. I had a couple deliveries to make for Uncle Evgeni that day, but then that night, I could head out to Ritmo, get plastered, and find someone else to take home. I was sure that I could fuck the dream-memories of Emily out of my system pretty quickly, especially with one of the spicy Spanish ladies.

For now, I wrapped my hand around my member, muffling a groan as I started to pump it slowly, thinking about Emily’s mouth. She had such perfect, round lips. What I wouldn’t give to have those lips stretched around me, as I thrust into the warm wetness of her mouth…

That night, I pulled on a nice pair of dark jeans and a plain, white, button-down shirt. Casual but nice looking, that was what I was going for.

Ritmo was already busy when I got there, and I nodded a little to myself. This was going to be too easy. I couldn’t remember the English idiom for it, but I knew Aunt Vitka would have said it was as easy as boiling a turnip…

As I made my way to the bar, I bumped into someone. She stumbled a little, and I caught her, already preparing to give her some sort of heroic speech and offer to buy her a drink. The words died on my lips, though, when I realized that it was Emily who I was still hanging onto.

I brushed the imaginary dust off her sleeve and smiled ruefully at her. “So we meet again,” I said.

Emily groaned. “I knew I should be avoiding this place. I just wanted to come out and have a fun night.”

I snorted. “And I should be avoiding you,” I told her.

To my surprise, Emily looked indignant at that. “You should be avoiding me?” she snapped. “I’m not the one who has no personality aside from being a skeeze who tries to sleep with random women at his club.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, amused in spite of myself. “Is that really what you think about me?” I asked. She looked mortified, like she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and I wondered how much she had already had to drink.

“I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off, and even in the dim lighting, I could see her blush.

“Well, if I’m just some skeeze, why do you care if I’m avoiding you?” I asked teasingly.

Emily ducked her head. “Because I don’t want to be the kind of girl that guys need to avoid,” she muttered.

“You’re not,” I said automatically. When she looked questioningly up at me, I shrugged expansively. “I need to avoid you because I can’t seem to avoid you,” I told her honestly. “I can’t get you out of my head. And I need to get laid, and I know that you’re not interested.”

Emily looked like she was about to say something, but then she guiltily turned away. Interesting… I wondered whether maybe she had a boyfriend, or an almost boyfriend, from back home. But she’d been away for long enough now that surely that wasn’t the problem. I wondered what it could be, though.

But before I could ask, she shook her head. “I have to go,” she managed to stammer out. Then, she slipped through the crowd, heading towards the exit.

I wanted to stop her. It would have been easy enough: grab her wrist as she turned, pull her back towards me. Kiss her passionately into submission… But I remembered what she had threatened the last time I’d seen her there at Ritmo, about calling security. Obviously the bouncers weren’t about to throw me out, but I didn’t need to cause a scene there either.

I sighed and let her go.

“Brother, there you are,” Andrei said, suddenly appearing at my side. He clapped a hand on my back and then steered me towards one of the booths at the back. I grimaced, wondering what exactly he thought that he’d just seen.

“So, is that girl the reason that you haven’t fucked anyone the past few nights?” Andrei asked, waggling his eyebrows at me.

I rolled my eyes. “If you’re going to interrogate me, you could at least get me a drink first,” I complained.

Andrei pushed his glass of vodka across the table towards me, and I downed what amounted to a couple shots in one quick go. “So?” Andrei asked the moment I put the glass back down.

“Andrei, I’m your older brother,” I reminded him.

Andrei snorted. “And?”

“I don’t have to let myself be interrogated by you.”

Andrei shrugged. “If you were going to get up and leave—if you didn’t want to talk about her—then you wouldn’t still be here,” he said, leaning back in the booth and looking smugly at me. “Now, I assume you want to talk to her. Maybe because you’ve seen me with Sarah and know that I know what I’m doing in a relationship?”

“I’m not taking relationship advice from you,” I said, rolling my eyes again.

“So don’t,” Andrei said. “But seriously, who’s the girl?”

“I met her last week,” I admitted grudgingly. “Her name’s Emily.”

“And she won’t let you sleep with her?” Andrei guessed.

I shook my head. “I don’t get it. She gave every sign of wanting to sleep together last time I saw her here at Ritmo, but at the end of the night, she made some lame excuse and left. Then, I ran into her while I was out running, and she went to get coffee with me. We had a nice talk, but I didn’t even get her phone number. Now, I ran into her again, and…well, you saw her. She acted like I’m a leper!”

“Well, it’s obvious that she’s interested in you,” Andrei said, frowning thoughtfully. “But she probably thinks you’re just a player, and she’s not the kind of girl to have one-night stands. Maybe you need to take her on a proper date first.”

“Because coffee wasn’t a proper date?” I asked.

“Not really, not if you just happened to bump into her. It needs to be something that you arranged ahead of time.”

“How am I supposed to arrange something ahead of time if she won’t even give me her number?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

To be honest, I didn’t even know why I was considering the idea. Whatever Emily was looking for, it apparently wasn’t the same as what I was looking for. Even if I took her out on a proper date and went home with her afterwards, she would expect something more to come of that. She would expect me to call her a couple days later, to start a relationship with her.

I wasn’t the relationship kind of guy.

“Come on,” Andrei said exasperatedly. “Don’t try to tell me that you couldn’t get her number in five minutes if you really wanted it. Maybe she won’t give it to you outright, but the Volkov family has…connections. She’s probably bought her drinks using her credit card; start with getting her last name.”

“Sounds like a lot of work just to get laid,” I muttered, taking another healthy swallow of vodka.

Andrei plucked his glass out of my hands. “You know it wouldn’t just be about getting laid,” he said.

“Oh really?” I snapped, lashing out at him because I couldn’t exactly lash out at myself. “What exactly do you think it would lead to?”

Andrei just looked amused. “You don’t need me to tell you that,” he pointed out. Before I could snap out a reply, he stood up and left the booth.

I stewed there for a moment, staring out at the crowd and trying to pick a different target for the night, one who was decidedly not blonde. But I couldn’t seem to settle on one. Instead, I took a bottle of the nicest vodka from the back room and headed home alone to drink myself into a stupor.

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