Page 1 of The Russian's Kidnapped Bride
Prologue - Mikhail
Heavy bass pulses through the club like a heartbeat while drinks flow and the lights flash.
Leaning back on one of the leather couches, partially obscured by velvet curtains, my eyes slowly scan the scene, taking in the beautiful clientele, the dancers, and everyone else in between.
It’s a rowdy Friday night—the best time for business.
Each person entering the building is a walking dollar sign, and for us, those numbers keep climbing, making every sip from my drink taste sweeter.
My glass sweats in my grasp, full of vodka that goes down clean and cold. The subtle burn feels like a reward.
Ivan lounges next to me with his legs spread like he owns the place, seeing as he does, technically. We all do, but he wears that fact better than any of us.
He laughs over the music and tugs a brunette closer to his lap, not at all trying to hide what he’s really after. She clings to him while his hand is halfway under her dress, grinning and giggling along with his jokes.
They’re playing the same game, bound to get what they want by the end of the night. He plays into it, of course, pulling a charming smirk that is far too disarming.
Usually, I’d tease him for being such a shameless dog about it, but tonight, I’m letting it slide.
We’ve had one hell of a week, and regardless of the lingering tension we both feel, hitting the club is supposed to be our breath of fresh air. The chance to unwind and forget about everything else.
We’re both aware that all work and no play makes us cranky as all hell, so why not be brazen?
Maxim’s out.
Somehow, some way, that rat wasn’t rotting in lockup like we thought he was. Instead, he managed to slip away, and now he’s loose in our city. He’s breathing our air again and already causing problems.
Several months ago, we thought we buried him and his men, but after the shit show we cleaned up today, we now know that’s far from the truth.
In between bantering with the woman on his arm, Ivan glances over at me, then murmurs, “You don’t think Maxim is dense enough to show up here, do you?”
I huff, listening to the subtle clink of ice in my glass. “If he’s smart, he’ll lie as low as physically possible.”
Ivan grins, then lightly swats at my arm. “So stop scowling like you’re expecting him to walk through those doors. Lighten up. Relax a little.”
“I am relaxed,” I say back, letting my lip pull slightly as I vaguely gesture to him. “I’m just not as deep in the debauchery as you yet.”
“Maybe you should change that. Might help that tension in your shoulders.”
“You’re making things up at this point.”
He takes another swig of his whiskey, visibly buzzed and enjoying himself immensely. “You just know I’m right.”
Before I can say anything else, the brunette places a hand against Ivan’s chest and leans in to whisper in his ear.Immediately, his teeth flash through his smile, and he chuckles, smoothing a hand over her ass.
“We’re heading out,” Ivan murmurs, eyes already glazed with his less-than-pure intentions. The two of them stand, and she never lets go of him while he tugs her along. “Try not to kill anyone while I’m busy.”
“No promises.”
With a knowing grin, Ivan disappears with his conquest for the night, leaving me alone in the private section.
Letting go of a breath, I try to release any rigidity lingering in my system. I absently swirl the remaining drink in my glass while taking in the usual chaos unfolding in the club.
I didn’t come to work, but sometimes, hitting that switch is harder than I’d like.
I came to forget and unwind, and to reset myself for the inevitable week ahead once the weekend comes to a close. Maybe even to follow in my brother’s footsteps and find someone to ease that tension.
Conducting another sweep of the place, I find the usuals, all of which I’ve had before—models, escorts, dancers…even the occasional civilian who should’ve known better than to get tangled up with me. But none of them lasted. None of them caught my attention beyond mere attraction.
