Chapter 3 - Katie

The club was everything my friends promised. Loud, packed with beautiful people, and decorated like a cross between a space station and a very luxurious drawing room. I balked at the long line and the outrageous cover price, but Layla and the other girls in our group assured me we wouldn't have to pay.

Shockingly, when it was our turn, the scary-looking doorman gave us a stern once over and ushered Layla, me, and the two other girls inside while Layla's boyfriend and the other guy who joined us had to pony up the cover fee. We managed to get drinks, and my meager sparkling water was so expensive I nearly fell off the barstool I was lucky to get.

Everyone tried to get me to dance, but I just wanted to take it all in for a while since I'd never been to such a fancy club or really any club. I was too young and too much of a rule follower to sneak out with my outgoing friend Nataliya when we went to school together, and once my parents died, I didn't have time, to try to keep it together to graduate while working any part-time job someone would give me.

Felix, the head waiter at our restaurant, came back and tried to drag me onto the dance floor again, and I eventually caved just to see what it was like out there in that glittering crowd of the Los Angeles elite.

It was sweaty. And borderline painful whenever someone crashed into me. Felix had already knocked back two of the colorful cocktails this place was supposedly famous for, and had gotten a little handsy. He was usually a nice guy, so I didn't want to make a scene, but I really wanted to leave that strobe-lit war zone.

Just as I was getting frustrated, a big hand clapped over mine and dragged me to the edges. With just one look, he made Felix slink away to try to grind on some other girl. I was about to thank my rescuer, thinking it was a bouncer who sensed my distress, but then I was shocked into next week to find it was none other than Aleksandr Fokin.

My best friend Nataliye's father. It had been years since I'd seen him, and memories rushed me like a linebacker.

Nataliye and I were inseparable when we both went to St. Ambrose, back when I had a family that could afford the prestigious private academy. Catching glimpses of Nat's handsome dad whenever I was over at their mansion in the hills had been the highlight of my young teen years.

Here he was, looming over me now, and he was more handsome than I remembered. His dark hair was just as unruly, a mass of thick waves cut close above his ears but tumbling across his forehead. End of the day, stubble shaded his chiseled jawline and his piercing blue eyes were studying me like I was a rare plant. The way they swept my body made me feel even hotter than when I was getting squished on the dance floor. His shoulders seemed broader, encased in a dark gray suit, the crisp shirt open at the collar to reveal that smattering of chest hair that used to make me swoon whenever we'd all happen to be out by the pool at the same time.

I had to look up and up to fully take him in, and with a quick nod, he pulled me upstairs to a cordoned-off area. It only took me a few seconds after he ordered me a bottle of extremely expensive white wine to realize that Mr. Fokin didn't recognize me at all.

And he wanted me to call him Aleks.

And he was clearly flirting with me.

This was new. This was so exciting that I could barely sit still, shifting so our legs touched. His hand wavered in the air over my knee, and I held my breath, but he didn't touch me even though I was inwardly begging. This was turning out to be the best way to end a horrible day, and I wanted to lean into this little fantasy.

Aleksandr Fokin was flirting with me, asking me to tell him everything about my humble and boring life, and acting like I was reading from a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel. He was so entranced.

I kept expecting him to snap at the fact he'd seen me in a face mask once, but he reminded Nataliye that if she didn't get her book report in on time for once, her ski trip would be canceled. He honestly seemed to see me as a woman now, not the shy little girl who could barely meet his eye that I once was.

Should I remind him?

Guilt skated around the edges of my giddiness, because this was wrong, wasn't it? Was I going to stay up here, closed in by that black velvet curtain, getting closer and closer to my best friend's dad? Nataliye would literally kill me, and probably in a painful manner. Then she'd most likely kill her father, too, and I would have been ultimately responsible for that double homicide.

I pushed those thoughts aside, because I wasn't really doing anything wrong. We were just talking, or I was mainly just talking, since every time I asked Aleks a question about what he'd been up to over the years, he quickly turned the questions back on me. Having someone I'd dreamed about so often show me such interest made me feel drunker than the wine ever could.

He was a perfect gentleman but was making me antsy and heated just by his intense gaze and the way it kept dropping to my mouth. Or better yet, my cleavage. I'd always been severely self-conscious, especially next to his willowy daughter, but the way he looked at me made me feel like I was as attractive as the Miss Universe lookalike who served our drinks. I wasn't doing anything wrong, but I wanted to. Oh boy, did I want to.

I had spilled everything from my lunch box business to having to grovel at Chef Dannelo's feet, but had barely only learned that it seemed like he owned this club. I knew they were rich, far richer than my family had ever been, and I was interested in everything about him. I was about to insist that he stop letting me hog our long conversation. I mean, didn't men love talking about themselves? He was treating me like I was a woman, someone he was definitely interested in if his glances meant anything, so I wanted to treat him like a man.

Hell, I'd thought my long-held crush had been relegated to the distant parts of my memory, but with Aleks so close to me that I could smell his woodsy cologne, it had fully regenerated. No, it was stronger than ever.

Before I could ask if he still lived up in the hills, he asked me to dance. With him as my partner, no one would dare crush us, and the desire to have him put his arms around me had me eagerly letting him pull me to my feet.

But we didn't go down to the dance floor. Aleks wanted to hold me close and sway to the sultry, hard-pounding rhythms up here, alone. My hands were locked around his neck without me telling them to, without my permission at all, and I slid up against him when he wrapped his hand around my waist.

I closed my eyes and breathed him in, trying to sear the way his rock-hard body felt against mine into my memory so I could come back to it in the long, lonely days ahead. And by rock hard, I meant rock hard. Every inch of him.

His hand slid up my back, and I tipped my head to take in his strong jaw and those intense blue eyes.

Now, I was doing something bad. I should have reminded him who I was and my connection to his daughter. I should have been thinking about that pending double murder if I didn't say something soon and instead let this go any further.

But the idea of living out this fantasy of being with the man of so many of my dreams, and the feel of being held close by him, erased all the crappy feelings I'd been lugging around. The failed catering business was nowhere in my mind. My dwindling bank balance wasn't even a glimmer. Chef Danello's smug victory and the fact I was once again a lowly line cook, all my hard-earned skills demoted to slicing vegetables, seemed very far away. So far away I couldn't see it. I could only see Aleks.

I let my eyes drift shut, getting lost in the feel of his strength holding me, and felt the brush of his full lips against mine. I tightened against him, some tiny part of me struggling to stay sane and reasonable.

Then his low voice rumbled near my ear, his warm breath making goosebumps rise on my bare arms.

"Come home with me tonight."

It was a miracle I was still standing. Why couldn't I have this one thing? How could I say no? It was unbearable, impossible.

I eased my hands from around his neck and let them slide down his chest, feeling the heat beneath his shirt and the thump of his heart under my palm.

I said yes.