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“Alright. Let me know.” I say.

After the call, I look down at my phone and groan loudly.

“Seven-thirty.” I sigh.

I'd better get going. Ark will definitely rock up here, and he wouldn’t be quiet about it. I’m too tired to deal with his chaos.

It’s early enough in the evening to find a decent parking spot outside the bar. My feet crunch against the cold ground as I walk towards the entrance of Lava Lounge. A bouncer nods in greeting and steps aside, pulling the door open for me.

“Evening, Mr. Andreev.” He says, his voice gruff.

“Evening, Killian,” I reply as I step past him.

Inside the warmth of the club, I shrug my coat off and hand it to the smiling young woman standing near the coat racks. Her long, bleached blonde hair is glowing pink in the red lights.

“Mr. Andreev. Your brothers are here, in booth three.” She says, tilting her head towards the booths.

I nod.

As I step past her, she blocks my path. She lifts her dark brown eyes towards me and smiles shyly. “You never called me.” She says.

Shit. I forgot she gave me her number. It was a few months ago already. I never had any intention of calling her, but I could at least have sent a message to let her down easy.

“Sorry, Melissa, I’ve been busy,” I say with disinterest, hoping she’ll catch the hint. The last thing I want to deal with now is this.

“Will you call me tonight?” She asks, brushing her hand over my chest.

I catch her wrist and stop her, shaking my head. “No, I won’t be calling you,” I say sternly.

She knots her brows and scrunches her nose, a sour expression tainting her otherwise pretty face.

“No problem. I have other options.” She snaps, her entire mood shifting.

“Lucky them.” I muse.

She huffs and turns her back on me, so I step around her and head towards my brothers. There is laughter coming from the booth as I approach.

Stepping inside, they turn towards me, and Arkady jumps up, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, his beer almost spilling.

“Yes. I knew you’d come.” He cheers.

Luka and Yilian shift up, making space for me.

Luka hands me a shot of tequila.

“No, man, not tonight,” I say, refusing it.

“Just fucking do it.” He snaps.

I clench my jaw. Whatever. What difference does it make anyway? Maybe the alcohol will numb the pain.

I throw the shot back and Arkady instantly hands me another.

“What the hell—“ I murmur.

“You need to catch up.”

I toss it back as well.