Page 2 of The Bratva's Auctioned Bride
I have a very high tolerance for pain, but that doesn’t mean it won’t annoy me if I have to deal with a pulled something or other for a week or two.
As I reach the club entrance, the bouncer turns to glance up and down the street and spots me immediately.
“Dio, my man,” he grins, slapping his hand into mine and shaking vigorously. “Good to see you, Brother.”
“Hey, Tiger, looks like a busy one tonight. Are they keeping you on your toes?” I gesture with a tilt of my head down the long line of people waiting to get into the club.
“Rif raff,” he chuckles beneath his breath. “Pretty little riff raff.” He turns his back to the line and winks at me. “Check the one in the pink. That dress is short enough to be a crop top, Brother,” he whispers.
Tiger is a filthy man. I reckon he’d fuck literally anything. I have standards, but I still play along with his games every time I come here. You keep a man like Tiger close. He’s loyal if you treat him with respect—and his connections and knowledge of every person in this city have come in handy more than once. Everyone likes the man who welcomes you into the most popular club in the city.
“She’s a firecracker. Why haven’t you let her in yet?” I ask.
“I get to look at ‘em while they’re out here. So I want to keep this one standing a little longer. But you should go in. You’re going to like tonight’s selection.” He raises his brows as he unclips the red rope across the entrance and bows his head in respect.
There are many eyes on me from the impatient people standing in line. I wink at the girl in the pink; she’s not my type at all, but hey, what can I say? I like to flirt.
As I walk past Tiger, I slap money into his hand. “Good seeing you again, Brother,” I say, then head into the club.
Music vibrates right into my skin as I step into the Red Room. A dark, glowing red aura soaks over me. Smoke machines stream a steady fog across the dance floor, and bodies churn and thrum in front of the ceiling-high speakers playing music so loud that it drowns out my thoughts, which is exactly what I want.
I’m here to let loose. To burn energy.
And to find someone to fuck.
The carnal world of raw desire has always been an escape for me. A way to get out of my head, to let go of the shit I deal with living in the world I live in. It’s my disconnection. Short-lived, but enjoyable.
Sure, as soon as the fucking is over, the real world snaps back into place, but for those moments, I’m free of it. And it’s what I need right now.
I push my way through the crowds, past some good-looking girls, but none of them have actually caught my eye just yet.
Leaning against the bar, I nod toward the barkeep. He knows what I want. He waves and smiles, then grabs a glass to pour me a vodka soda with a splash of lime.
A tight little fox brushes against me, her auburn hair looking redder in the lights. She looks like way more drama than she’s worth. She glances at me with long lashes and lust in her smile.Slut, I muse in my thoughts. She wants it so bad, she might let me bend her over the bar counter in front of everyone. Girls like her see the suit and the shirt, and they know exactly what brand it is. They see the Breguet watch shining on my wrist and recognize my attitude. My arrogance. My confidence.
Gold diggers.They think they’re in control, seducing you, luring you. I’m not interested in being played by some little gold digger who has seven other sugar daddies. Wrinkled, dried-up old men who can only get girls like this. Desperate girls with no morals.
Gold diggers aren’t my type. They play the long game. They want your number afterward. They want to meet up again and have you take them to dinners and parties on your yacht. It sounds like way too much work. Fuck that. I want a sexy little kitten who plays hard to get. A challenge. Someone who I’m in control of. And someone whose ego isn’t bigger than mine.
I smile back at her, but it’s just because I can’t help being charming. It’s not because I’m interested. My eyes return to the crowds, in search ofmylittle vixen for the night. The girl next to me notices my disinterest and pulls a sour face. I ignore her.
I’m fussy. I get to be fussy because I’m fucking gorgeous. I don’t even have to pretend I’m not. With a smirk, I push my hand through my pitch black hair, long enough to fall into my eyes, thick enough to be a wild mess when I wake up in the morning.
My cold blue eyes, grey in certain light, scan the beautiful faces around me.
Maybe tonight might be a bust. Maybe Ishouldtake the fox to the bathroom, make her scream my name, and then go home.
Sighing, I pick up my drink and nod in thanks at the barman.
I’ll have a drink or two, and if nothing …
Who is that? I’ve never seen her before. Someone like that I would fucking remember.
My body spikes with interest. My heart is beating a little faster, and my jaw is twitching.
I feel like a hunter, locking onto his prey. My interest has been piqued.
She’s absolutely stunning. And she doesn’t look like she belongs here, which makes me like her even more.
