7. Kristof

Idrive recklessly, with little care for road rules or anyone else who stands in my way.

The GPS I embedded in Katja's pendant pinged at one of the most popular clubs in the city—Gemini. To say that was a surprise is an understatement. In the space of thirty seconds, I'd gone from furiously entertaining all the ways I was going to torture the bastard who took her to realizing that she likely ran away.

I'd be impressed if I weren't so fucking angry.

Did she not think of anyone but herself? Did she not think of how dangerous it would be for her to leave the Estate?

Part of me understands.

Mara runs that place like a prison, and over the years, I've noticed a distinct lack of affection existing between those walls. When I kissed her last year, the way she melted into me at the barest hint of affection told me all I needed to know about how starved of love she was, and with an impending marriage to a psychopath… well, running away makes sense.

But she didn't just run away from them. She ran away from me.

And I know what exists out here. The price on the name Orlova is high, and all it takes is one random glimpse for Alena to enter a whole world of hurt that she'll have no idea how to survive. I have to get there first.

I have to get to her first.

Rage pulses through me like molten lava, and Alena consumes my thoughts to the point that it doesn't even cross my mind to call anyone. Not Mara, not even Aleksander. All I can think of is getting to her before anything happens.

The tires squeal, and my car crunches up the curb as I pull up outside Gemini. The queue darts backward as every single person expects me to drive straight through them. The bouncer, a wall of thick muscle, starts toward the car as I grab my phone, but the moment I step out, he freezes in place.

My reputation precedes me in more than just the underworld.

"Mr. Lazarov," he says, taking a step backward. "Welcome."

I stride past him without even a glance. People here know me well enough to know exactly how I like to be handled—private rooms, expensive liquor, and to never be disturbed unless it's of the utmost importance.

Finding Alena in this crowd is going to be a challenge, and as I step out into the heart of the club, my mind races. She doesn't have a phone, so calling her will be useless, and the GPS tracker isn't detailed enough to pinpoint Alena in this sea of faces that dance, bump, and grind against one another.

And yet, as I descend the stairs trying to form a plan, something catches my eye that makes my problem vanish in an instant.

I don't need to search for Alena.

She's right there.

My heart stops, rage quelling for a moment as utter relief swells through me at seeing her alive and well. Then, the anger bubbles back.

Alena is on one of the side stages, stripped down to her underwear and dancing around a silver pole to a crowd that cheers and surges around her stage.

My mouth runs dry.

She's like an incredibly filthy fantasy come to life right before my eyes. One hand stays on the pole, and she twirls around elegantly. Her body arches into the pole, and she parts her thighs, grinding against the metal. Her long, blonde hair has come loose and drapes like a golden waterfall down her back as she dances. Suddenly, she turns on the spot, her back to the pole, and she sinks down to the ground while spreading her knees wide and giving me—and the entire fucking club—a full display of the silk panties hiding her pussy from view.

As she stands back up, she stumbles slightly either from alcohol or inexperience. The crowd doesn't care. She's a half-naked, sexy woman, and they love her. The smile on her face is wide and bright, and her eyes, slightly lidded, blink lazily as she dances. She spins once more, her bra strap slipping down her arm, and then her tongue darts out.

The second she licks the pole, I surge forward as fury takes me.

She is mine.

Fuck. She's not, but she should be.

Yet here she is, half-naked and dancing for a sea of men who don't even deserve to know her name, never mind glimpse her beauty. How she got here and why she's here falls second to getting her off that stage and under my protection, away from the gaping men salivating at the sight of skin.

She laughs, a warm sound, and it pulls me through the crowd like a leash. I'm angry, I'm jealous, and more than that, a possessive urge surges through me like a wave that almost drowns me.

She scared me, and I'm not a man who's easily scared.

Her disappearance had filled my mind with all sorts of horrors, and yet she was here, having the time of her life, without a care in the world.

It makes me want to punish her until she's begging for my forgiveness.

The crowd parts like the sea, and I make it to the stage, only for the bouncer there to hold up a hand as if he stands a chance of keeping me from Alena. Our eyes meet, and recognition flitters across his face, then he steps aside. I stride up the steps and onto the stage, throw out a hand, and grab Alena's arm on her next twirl.

She gasps in surprise, stumbling to a stop, and then she turns to me, eyes flashing and mouth twisted in a frustrated cry that doesn't come. The moment she looks at me, her face melts into a mix of shock and horror.

"Kristof?"

"Get the fuck off the stage," I snarl, not that I give her the option. I drag her off the stage and down the steps to a chorus of boos and complaints from the crowd, but they don't faze me. These drunken assholes will forget this within thirty seconds. At the bottom of the stairs, Alena starts to struggle against me, but she's much weaker, and it does nothing but make me even more irritated as I drag her away from the stage.

No one stops me. Anyone who does look me in the eye melts away in fear.

"No!" Alena squeals. "Kristof, don't! Please, I'm sorry—please, I'm not ready for this to end."

We stop abruptly, and I whip around to face her, bringing my face dangerously close, but to my surprise, she doesn't shrink away.

"Do you have any fucking idea how much trouble you are in?" I hiss angrily. "Do you even comprehend the danger you are in? Or how worried everyone is? How worried I was? I thought you had been taken, and instead, you are here, fucking a metal pole?"

Alena jerks her arm in my grip and growls. "It's not like that!"

This close, the sweetness of her perfume invades my senses. She's half-naked, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat, and she's inches from my face. I could take her right here. I could fuck her right there, make her scream and beg, and no one would stop me.

It wouldn't be enough to sate me, but the temptation is smothering.

"Alena!"

That familiar voice breaks my thought, and I lean up to see Katja weaving toward us. She freezes on the spot the moment she sees me, and all color drains from her face.

"You," I snarl. "I should have guessed you had something to do with this. What did it take, huh, to lead her astray? To drag her here and put her in danger. Is that part of some game plan, huh? Some way to fuck us all over? Does your tiny fucking mind even comprehend the damage?—"

"Kristof!" Alena's yell cuts through me like a knife, and despite my iron grip on her upper arm, she pushes herself between me and Katja. Rage catches in my throat and I can't speak. Every muscle coils tight, and my grip tightens further as Alena stares me down.

"Don't you dare," she snaps, and there's a fuzziness to her words. How much has she had to drink?

"This was my idea, okay? I wanted to have fun. I wanted one night where I could just be a person. This was me, this was all me. I wanted this, and I would have done it by myself if Katja hadn't come with me to keep an eye on me. I wanted one night!" She pauses, breathless, but her steely gaze doesn't waver. "You have no idea what it's like to be nothing in your own home. To just be a tool to everyone else. I wanted one night for me before I'm married to Mikhail and shipped away, okay? This was me. I wanted fun. So you leave Katja alone!"

Her defense of her friend is admirable, and if I weren't so angry, I might have said so. Still, her unwavering stance impresses me a little, and as she speaks, understanding grows.

She's as trapped as she looks, and having one bold night like this isn't something I ever considered her doing. She's surprising me, and I kind of like it.

If I weren't so furious that she scared me, I might have relaxed. Instead, the anger stays even as I sigh deeply and finally release her arm.

"Fine," I snap tightly, and then, from the deep, dark recesses of my mind, an idea forms. "You did this because you wanted a night of fun?"

"Yes," Alena snaps.

"Why didn't you ask?"

"Who would I ask?" Alena snaps. "Fuck you, Kristof. You don't know anything." She prods me in the chest with one finger, and it stokes the violent fire in my gut. "You think I could ask to go to a club? Fuck you!"

"Fuck me?" I growl. "You're a fucking brat, you know that? Did it even cross your mind that I could have burst in here with a full squad and killed everyone to get to you? You're fucking lucky I came here alone."

"Whatever," Alena mutters, stomping one foot. "We just wanted to dance and drink and meet boys?—"

The green-eyed monster nearly strangles me from the inside. Boys? She came here looking for boys, huh? Men to touch her, kiss her, woo her?

Fuck that.

That's my job.

Grabbing Alena's arm once more, I dig in my jacket pocket for my phone and dial my brother as I eye Katja.

That dark, teasing thought from the pit of my mind flares up once again.

"Aleksander will kill you for this," I say, and Katja's eyes widen further.

"But it was my idea," Alena snaps.

"Doesn't matter," I snarl. "He won't care. If he finds out about this, he will kill you, do you understand?"

Katja clutches her hands together, tears filling her big blue eyes as she nods.

"If you breathe a word of this to anyone, Aleksander will find out and kill you. If you tell anyone about my being here, I'll tell Aleksander himself and he will kill you, do you understand?"

A flicker of confusion passes over her face, but fear is stronger and she nods rapidly.

"You were never here. Alena was never here. I was never here. Got it?" I lean close, and Katja remains frozen in place, nodding over and over.

Finally, the ringing ends and the voice of my brother, Ivan, fills my ear.

"Kristof, I just heard about Alena. Any news?"

"I'm handing it," is all I say. "I need you to come to Gemini and pick up Katja."

"The maid?"

"Yes. You need to take her home and sneak her back inside, understand? No one can know she was out."

Katja's tear-filled eyes glance at Alena and then back to me. Ivan agrees without question and hangs up.

"Go wait by the entrance. When Ivan turns up, you do exactly what he says."

Katja doesn't move.

"Go, now!" I snap, and she stumbles backward, then she turns and starts to shove through the crowd. Alena makes to follow her, but I tighten my grip and pull her back toward me.

"Not you," I growl as we come face to face and she gasps. "I'm not finished with you yet."