Page 10 of Demitri

“Do you need my name?”

“I do if I’m taking you home tonight.”

I know it’s a challenge. A dare. Will he take the bait or not?

He throws back the shot and closes his eyes, savoring the afterburn. When he opens them again, there’s a fire within the blue, and I know I’ve won.Act unaffected,I tell myself as I wait him out.

“Demitri. Demitri Pavlov at your service.”

“Mia Alexander.”

I stick out my hand. Another challenge, and he doesn’t fail. He pulls my knuckles to his mouth and brushes his lips over them, an electric tingle racing through my entire body.

“Nice to officially meet you.”

“It’ll be even nicer with no clothes.” I smile before walking away to make more drinks. His low laughter hits between my legs and I know he’s leaving with me tonight.

PRESENT DAY

“Hey, Boss. Not sure how long it’s healthy to stand there and not blink.”

I’m brought back to the present by Brodie waving his hand in front of my face, a dopey grin on his.

“Shut up,” I chuckle.

“Let’s go. It’s been a long night, and I gotta go see a girl, if you know what I mean.” He waggles his brows dramatically.

“Yeah,” I laugh. “I know what you mean. Get on out of here. I’ll lock up. Thanks for your help tonight.”

“See you tomorrow!”

He’s gone before I can reply, and I can’t help but smile after the kid. Kid? When did I become the old lady? Fuck, I’m only thirty-one years old.

I look at the engraving on the bar top, running my fingers over the words ‘City Brews’and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. It’s because of my Beluga Boy that I leveled up. It’s because of him that I’m in the black every month and not worrying about keeping the lights on. Everything good in my life is because I met him one random weeknight. And I can’t tell him. I can never tell him how thankful I am to have him in my life. How big of an impact he has on everything around me.

I pull out the bottle of Beluga Gold Line and pour myself a shot. Letting the liquid slide down my throat, the afterburn smooth and a little sweet. There’s vanilla in this, which is whyI had the cheaper bottle four years ago. I purchased this one the day after I met Demitri, and the only people who have ever tasted this bottle are him and me. And that’s how it will stay until the last drop.

After putting the bottle away, I clean the shot glass and wipe down the bar one more time. I pull the cash out of the register along with the card receipts and head back to my office. After a quick count, I bag the cash and put it in the safe for the night. The receipts I put into a file to deal with in the morning, and I turn off the lights. I double check the doors and walk through the now dark room and down the hallway. I step into my office long enough to grab my jacket, purse, and keys before locking up the back door and walking to my car.

It’s time to go home. Time to go to Demitri.

CHAPTER FOUR

DEMITRI

WillI ever tell Mia that I’ve now searched her entire house and learned all her secrets? No chance in hell. I want her to tell me her secrets. I want her to fuckingwantto tell me her secrets. And, more importantly, there weren’t any to learn. Her house is fucking spotless—and impersonal, just like she wants the world to think she is. It’s a small two-story, and until I snuck up there tonight, I’ve never been upstairs. I wonder if she’s got cameras in the house? There are no pictures on the walls, no photo albums, no notebooks or journals, nothing on the fridge. Even her bookshelf is weird, with all the books facing in, so it’s just blank pages shown. She might be a little psycho for that, and I should probably be worried about staying here.

Not going to change how I feel about her, though. That ship has sailed, and yeah, I know that makes me pathetic, okay? Deal with it. I never wanted to scale her walls—just her body. But then I started talking to her. And not only is she stunning and beautiful and has an ass that can make a man fall to his knees, she’s so fucking smart, and funny, and sarcastic. She deals out shit better than anyone I’ve ever known. When she comes home after a long night at the bar and puts her hair up and thoselibrarian glasses on? I’m a teenager trying not to jizz in his pants. She is what fantasies are made of. All the fantasies.

So, I’ve let her string me along for four fucking years. I’ve taken her drips and scraps and lapped up every little bit of her she’s let me, and I’m addicted. When she forgets that her walls are steel covered in concrete covered in brick and shows me the cracks? I live for those moments. They don’t happen often, and they never last long, but they are worth every agonizing hour of waiting.

I’ve pulled a faceless book off the shelf and discovered it’s a paranormal romance about the four horsemen of the apocalypse and settle in to read. Yeah, I read romance books. Knowledge is knowledge, people, and I’ve learned some of the coolest shit from these books. I’ve also picked up a few moves, not that Mia would ever let me try them. At least not yet.

I don’t know how long I’ve been reading when I hear Mia pull into the driveway. But I don’t put the book away. I might be completely under her spell, but I have some self-respect—and the book is getting really good.

“Evening, dear.” I grin, looking up at her when she comes through the door. “How was your day?”

“Smartass.” She huffs out a laugh, dropping her oversized bag on the floor by the couch before falling into the cushions. She rolls her head, looking at me. She’s exhausted but fighting it. “Finish all your snooping already?”

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