Page 61 of Maxim
Sasha says he’s been seeing her. Sneaking over to her apartment for late-night booty calls.
Not that I care. As long as he’s available when I call, he can do what the fuck he wants the rest of the time.
We walk up the stairs as a crowd of drunken women stumbles down. One of them giggles and falls against me, her hand resting dangerously close to my crotch. I growl at her and she jumps back in alarm.
Kolya grabs her arm and pulls her away, shaking his head. Whatever the woman sees in our expressions is enough to send her scurrying down the stairs with a lot less pep in her step.
Good. I’m not here to pick up anyone. The next person who puts their hands on me without permission will end up regretting it.
“They’re over there, boss,” Kolya murmurs in my ear.
I look in the direction he indicates and then I see her.
Fuck me.
She’s wearing a tiny red dress and heels. Even in the low light, I can see how the silky fabric clings to her curves. The damn thing barely covers her ass, above or below, thanks to the way it drapes low enough to touch the base of her spine. Which tells me she’s not wearing a bra.
From the way Kolya frowns, he’s not all that impressed with what Amanda’s wearing either, but I’m not looking at her.
My eyes are firmly fixed on Natalya, or more accurately, on the trio of guys who are hovering nearby, leering at my woman with hungry eyes.
Eyes that are about to be plucked from their faces.
Chapter forty-three
Nat
The music is banging and the fourth Negroni has finally done its job. I’m beginning to feel nicely buzzed, which was the whole point of the evening, according to Jane.
Amanda looks great. She’s wearing a gorgeous green sheath dress with a slit up the thigh and spaghetti straps. It flatters her height and slim build perfectly and brings out the red highlights in her dark hair.
She’s practically glowing this evening - her cheeks are flushed and her eyes sparkling. It’s becoming increasingly obvious that my lovely friend has a hot new lover but she seems reluctant to tell us who he is.
I just hope she hasn’t rekindled things with the lifeguard. The guy was a real prick in the way he treated her.
“You’re late,” Jane comments as we huddle around a table with our drinks, pointedly ignoring the three men in cheap suits who are doing their level best to attract our attention. They can all do one. Assholes, the lot of them.
“Yeah, needed to wash my hair,” Amanda replies, tossing her locks over her shoulder and smirking.
“Yeah, right. Fine! Don’t tell us who you’ve been banging. You know we’ll get it out of you once you’ve had a few more drinks.”
I snort with laughter. Jane’s on the money as always. Amanda is a chatty drunk. She spills all her secrets once she’s hammered.
“And that’s why I’m not drinking cocktails!” Amanda grins, holding up her sparkling water.
“Bitch.” Jane glowers but she’s not mad really. Amanda will tell us when she’s ready.
My neck prickles like someone’s watching me, but when I turn, I can’t see anyone. The three guys who were leering at us have given up and moved away. Thank god.
I try to focus on the conversation but the sensation I’m being watched doesn’t go away. It’s happened a lot lately. Everywhere I go, I feel like I’m being followed or watched. I can’t decide if I’m being paranoid or I really am being watched.
It’s disconcerting and also terrifying. But aside from the break-in at my apartment, nothing else has happened.
Jane elbows me to get my attention. “Dance?”
“Sure.” Maybe dancing for a bit will get me out of my head. I down the rest of my drink and follow the girls to the dance floor. The DJ is playing Calvin Harris and Rhianna, This Is What You Came For, and before long, all thoughts of being watched disappear as the music blocks everything else out.
***