Page 4 of The Red Room

She does as he says and departs with one last snide glance at me. They walk toward a door near the center of the room, his palm never leaving the small of her back. When he opens it, the inside lights shine outward, illuminating half the crowd. They pay Nikolai no mind and continue dancing to the overpowering music filling the club. I watch them enter the room, and the slight hairs on the back of my neck prickle to attention. The walls. They aren’t the same as the rest here. Certainly not the same dark gray of the bar. They are painted red. A bloody, arterial red. That must be it.The red room.The one the bouncer warned me not to go in. Now I’m the jealous one, sitting here alone at the bar while Veronica is taken back to this exclusive part of Völk. My chest deflates like a car tire and sure as hell feels just as heavy.I should’ve thrown my drink in her face when I had the chance.

Nikolai pauses at the doorway and turns, his glowing eyes finding mine. He grins at me, even tilting one eyebrow upward. When he reaches for the door handle, something appears from the cuff of his blue button up. I’ve seen it enough times to recognize the mark. It’s a tattoo. A crescent moon tattoo matching the ones on the bartender and bouncer. It isn’t surprising he bears the same mark, although his doesn’t look nearly as fresh. We stare at each other for a moment, him a confident smirk, and me, looking around to be sure I’m the one he’s actually looking at.

Then, the door slams shut and dead bolts.

TWO

Two days before the full moon

Court and Iwalk at an even pace toward Völk. Not quite sure why I agreed to another night of loud music and overpriced liquor, but here I am, clad in some outfit she chose for me yet again because it quote,made my boobs look great.

“Nikolai won’t be able to take his eyes off you,” she says and bumps my arm.

Court’s wrong. She has to be. Why would this successful, attractive man be interested in someone like me? He sees hundreds of Veronicas every weekend in his club. I only stick out the way a knot in a fence might. A blemish on perfect valley-girl skin. He isn’t interested in me. I sigh, and the dress constricts me like a satin snake from my chest down to my hips.

“Yeah, right. He can have anyone he wants in that club. And I’m …” I pause, glancing down at my heels. It was as if every horrible thing I’ve ever heard, every form of snide judgment by those who never struggled to find clothes to wear, beats at my head like a hammer. “I’m …”

“Gorgeous.” She cuts me off and puts a hand on each of my shoulders. “Maybe he’s tired of fragile, porcelain dolls.” Court smirks at first, then her grin becomes wide and devious. Her brows knit together. “Maybe he’s looking for someone he won’t be afraid of breaking.”

My cheeks heat in an instant. The idea of breaking me, or at least trying. “Stop. He was just being friendly.”

“Natalia,” she mocks his accent and grabs my hand to kiss it. “Drink vhatever you vant, Natalia. I hope to see you again, but next time Natalia, you’ll be vriding my huge, Russian—”

I smack her in the arm and silence her. The blood doesn’t drain from my face, but seemingly evaporates. “You are the worst.”

Court giggles and brushes a hand though her silky black hair. “I know. So, what are you going to do if he’s here tonight? What’re you going to say?”

“I don’t know,” I lie, refusing to share how I spent the majority of the afternoon having an imaginary conversation with him. My interpretation of his slight accent might’ve been way off, though. To be honest, I don’t know what to say to him. I could barely get a single word out last night, and I’d be willing to bet tonight won’t be any different. There is something about him. Something more than how every feature blended together to create some abnormally attractive creature. His gruff voice and how the low rumble of it vibrated me down to my bones. His eyes. Those magically piercing eyes, and how he focused on me and not through me the way other men do. No, I don’t know what the hell I’ll say to him if he is here tonight.

The moon is nearly to its full dinner-plate shape, dancing among the light gray clouds in the horizon. It seems the cold has let up just enough to dress lighter than other nights, but the occasional breeze brings with it a chilly reminder the winterseason is right around the corner. Steam hisses from each of the sewer grates we pass, and as Court and I approach the front of Völk, the music thuds through the cracked pavement.

“I’ll meet you inside,” I say and start down the long stretch of sidewalk lined with those anxious to get inside. I will soon join them, taking my place at the back which now appears to curve around the block at the next stoplight. I curse under my breath for agreeing to heels.Great. Another hour and a half in line. Just enough time to add some new blisters to my feet.Courtney won’t have an issue. At least, she never has before. The bouncer posted up front will take one look at my bombshell of a friend and urge her in. Believe me, it’s happened more times than I can count. But to her credit, Courtney has never left, not without me that is. She’s always been more than happy to wait it out at my side.

She hooks her arm into mine and walks with me.

“What are you doing?” I ask and shake my head.

Court struts down the street, practically dragging me along. “You’re not making me deal with the creeps in there alone. Nice try.” She leaves little room in her tone for a reply. Not that I would protest if asked to. Small tears fill my eyes, and before they spill, I slam my eyes shut. She doesn’t have to do this. Stand with me for hours while the party carries on inside. A piece of me feels guilty while the other is simply thankful for her beinghereven after all these years. I really don’t deserve her.

“You,” the bouncer at the front says, his thick voice outdoing the chatter of the crowd.

Here we go.He’s going to tell Courtney to come inside, then, he’ll give me a once-over and point to the back of the line. It doesn’t matter if she’ll tell him no, by the time she does, my self-confidence, already circling the drain as it is, will plummet down the sink in a single mouthful. She is undoubtedly the pretty friend, and me? Well. I’m end of the line material.

“We’re going to wait in the back,” Courtney says in an instant, not wanting to hear his invitation. It is another thing I am silently thankful for. Saving me from embarrassment not once, but twice now.

The bouncer, the same one from last night, appears confused, and his broad eyebrows furrow. “Not you. Her.” With this, he points a large finger at me.

My mouth hangs open like a trapdoor, and although I can’t see Court’s expression, I assume it’s no different. Me? What the hell does he want with me? Did Veronica tell Nikolai she doesn’t want me in here anymore? That I would be bad for business coming to such an exclusive club? I rub the sweat from my palms on my hips, stepping forward cautiously. “Yes?”

He unhooks the rope and waves an arm to the door. “Mr. Vostik has requested you.”

I swallow the vomit trying to claw its way out. No. There’s no way this is possible. Mr. Vostik. Nikolai Vostik? Requested … me? Saliva lathers my tongue, and I know if I can’t manage to shut my low-hanging jaw, this bouncer’s black shoes will be painted with my insides.

“I—I …”

“It would be unwise to keep him waiting.” His accent is as thick as it is convincing. Keephimwaiting. The man I met last night for a brief moment has personally requested me in his club. Nikolai. The owner of Völk. Christ, this has to be some sort of prank.

“Nat,” Courtney says and nudges me forward, and given how all of my limbs seize, I’m fearful I might fall face-first into the cement. She breaks me out of the spell, urging me toward the unclipped rope. “Go. Get in there!”

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