Page 41 of Sinister Promise

Where I froze.

Hewas waiting for me.

Pavel sat there, dressed in a black suit that was probably more expensive than anything that had ever stepped foot in this establishment. He was lounging in a leather chair, all cocky power, like he owned the fucking place.

Dark.

Dangerous.

Arrogant.

A knowing smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

He'd been expecting me and was enjoying seeing me shaken.

My stomach dropped.

I hadn't seen him come in.

How had I not seen him come in?

My body moved before my brain could catch up.

I took a step back toward the curtain, ready to drop the bottle, turn and run.

I barely took half a step before his arm shot out and grabbed my hand, stopping me.

With a rough yank, my balance shattered and suddenly I was tumbling forward, colliding with a wall of muscle.

A sharp gasp poured from my throat as I landed in his lap.

His firm hands locked around my waist as I tried to scramble up.

A low rumble of laughter vibrated from his chest as he leaned forward to whisper in my ear. "It seems I've trapped a little kitten."

CHAPTER 10

PAVEL

"What the fuck are you wearing?" I growled, looking Alina up and down, taking in the trashiest outfit I'd ever seen.

Her tits were practically spilling out of the corset, and her round, perky ass was barely covered by tiny black shorts. I wasn't even sure they could be considered shorts.

She shouldn't be wearing shit like that.

This woman should be wrapped in the finest designer silks, cashmere, and wool. Clothes that whispered status. Power. Claimed.

Instead,every time I saw her, she was dressed like someone disposable.

Her so-called cleaner uniform—black T-shirt and yoga pants—wasn’t just cheap, it was insulting. A deliberate attempt to disappear into the background like a broom or a bucket. But a body like hers was impossible to hide. Thefabric clung to her curves in all the wrong ways, like an afterthought that somehow demanded attention.

And then there was this second offense.

This pathetic excuse for a strip club costume. A bartender’s outfit designed to humiliate.

She looked like a walking target.

Cheap. Unprotected.

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