53. Chapter 53

53

Dimitri

Y ob tvoyu mat . Boyfriend?

The drunk fucks turn, following her gaze.

I'm there, looming over them.

"Problem here?" I growl, voice low.

Greasy Fuck's eyes go wide. He stumbles back, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Shit, man, we were just—"

I don't let him finish. My fist connects with his jaw. There's a satisfying crunch. He goes down hard, sprawling on the floor.

The other two back up fast, hands raised. Baldy's sweating now, his shiny dome glistening under the bar lights.

"Hey, we didn't know she was taken," he stammers.

I step closer. They flinch. "Doesn't fucking matter," I snarl.

"When a lady says no, you listen. Got it?"

Suddenly, two burly security guards appear, moving fast toward us. They pause when they see me, recognition flashing in their eyes. One of them, a big fucker with a scar across his cheek, nods respectfully.

"Mr. Orlov," he says, voice low. "Everything alright here?"

I jerk my head toward the three drunks. "These mudaks were harassing the staff. Get ‘em out of here."

The guards don't hesitate. They grab Baldy and Lanky by the arms, hauling them to their feet. Greasy Fuck is still on the floor, groaning. The scarred guard bends down, yanking him up roughly.

"Come on, fellas," he growls. "Time to go."

They escort the three dickheads out, not too gently. Good. Let ‘em feel it tomorrow.

I turn to Wren, adrenaline still pumping through my veins. "You okay?"

She rolls her eyes, brushing imaginary dust off her uniform. "I had it under control."

"Yeah, I saw that," I grunt. "Nice touch, calling me your boyfriend."

A smirk plays on her lips. She leans against the bar, hip cocked. "Who says I was talking about you?"

I blink. What the fuck?

She laughs, the sound hitting me right in the gut. "Relax, big guy. I'm kidding."

I grunt again, not sure what to say. This close, I can smell her perfume. Something floral, mixed with the scent of her. It's fucking intoxicating.

"What are you doing here, D?" she asks, voice low. Her eyes scan my face, searching for something.

Good question. I don't have a fucking answer.

" Needed a drink," I mutter, avoiding her gaze.

She raises an eyebrow. "In my bar? Bit of a coincidence, don't you think?"

I shrug, looking away. Can't meet her eyes. "Maybe."

Wren sighs. She runs a hand through her hair, messing up her ponytail. "This is dangerous. You know that, right?"

"Yeah." I do know. But I can't stay away. Not from her.

She glances around. The bar's still pretty empty, but a few heads are turned our way. An old guy at the end of the bar is watching us, his rheumy eyes narrowed.

"My shift ends in three hours," Wren says. "We should talk."

I nod, throat suddenly dry. "Yeah. We should."

As I turn to go back to my table, she grabs my arm. Her fingers are cool against my skin. "And D?"

I look at her, trying to keep my face neutral. "Yeah?"

A small smile curls lips. There's something in her eyes I can't quite read. "Thanks for the assist. Even if I didn't need it."