Or rather, theonlyrule.
If people started poking, they’d discover more than Mikko and his “employees” would ever want them to see. It was a position that had its perks, but Mikko still had to be wary of the consequences. He used his power illegally, so when shit started falling apart, he was forced to act quickly. If he didn’t make an example out of Ivan, Portland would be up in arms. Besides, the city couldn’t run onnothing,organized crime needed hierarchy and organization too.
Nonetheless, Ivan’s vaults had dried up entirely if Mikko had to guess, and his rent was in the red. And the only red Mikko liked to see was on the hands of his men.
Although Mikko was sequestered in the quieter—if one could consider that possible—sections ofBubblegum, it still allowed for himto observe the onslaught of people filling the space as the minutes ticked by. The seats at the bar near him were occupied, well, except the ones right next to his standing form. People tended to steer clear of his harsh gaze, a look Cristiano said he needed to break, but old habits died hard.
Speaking of which…wherewasthat man?
Scanning the bodies beginning to dance beneath the lights, and the ones lingering along the sides of the club, Mikko searched for his friend.
And came up empty.
Another sip to quell the fire igniting in his chest. This would be the last time his friend talked him into—
“If you’re searching for a dance partner, your sour mood isn’t gonna do you any favors.” The feminine voice had his eyes cutting down to his side, thoughts interrupted. Dark hair with a blonde money piece had his heart stuttering.
It was the woman from outside.
His teeth clenched, a blunt reply on his tongue when she continued, making herself at home despite his obvious coldness toward strangers. “You should’ve stuck around to hear the vitriol the others outside were calling you.” His eyebrow raised. “Seems like line skippers aren’t appreciated around here.”
“Good thing I don’t care what others have to say about me.”
“Still,” she huffed, “jumping the line doesn’t earn you any brownie points, no matter how good you look.”
Mikko slowly blinked.
“If I didn’t know better, you sound jealous,” he countered, eyes observing the casual way she held herself. It was as if no one could touch her—or her ego.
Her deep eyes looked him up and down before she said, “Perhaps. So, are you going to tell me who the lucky lady is?” Her gaze turnedback out toward the rest of the club as if searching for who he’d been looking at.
“Who said I’m looking for someone?”
“You’re telling me you’renoton the hunt?”
“I’m not,” he gritted out.
“Hmm, weird.” She leaned leisurely against the bar, close enough that her body heat whispered across his skin. “Suits like you never deny the accusations pumping your ego as surely as you pump your cock at night.”
His eyes widened at her boldness, jaw loosening for once in his life. “I—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” She patted his arm, the crisp black button down rustling beneath her soft touch. Suddenly, he wished for his riding jacket, needing the extra layer to ward himself against her charms.
Underneath the tingling discomfort, Mikko felt a warmth stirring. There was an easiness between them making him think they’d met before, but he’d remember someone as mouthy as her. While he may hate to be perceived as anything other than untouchable, this might be an exception.
Her audacity was refreshing, and paired with the shadowed lights of the club, he allowed himself to let go.Slightly.No longer did he worry about her looking for a chink in his metaphorical armor, but instead he sunk into his other side. The side that got him what he wanted.
“Apologies for giving you the wrong idea,” he crooned, “but Irarelyhave to smile since my name does all the talking for me.”
“Lucky for me that meansnothingsince I don’t know who you are,line skipper.”
“I think you’re a liar.”
He assessed her reaction, lashes fluttering against her cheekas she glanced down at his drink.
“And I think you’re egotistical.”
“What’re you gonna do about that?” he taunted.