4. ANDREY

Chapter 4

ANDREY

I hang up, and Helen refills my glass again. I take one more admiring glance at her beautiful ivory orbs as I start to back away from the bar.

I turn, intent on retreating to my office to access the computer network, but a sudden movement catches my eye. It's too late to adjust my path, and I collide with a woman passing by. The impact sends my phone flying from my grasp, and in a desperate attempt to catch it, my drink cascades onto her.

She stumbles backward with a gasp, crashing into a waitress carrying a tray of vibrant cocktails. As I manage to snatch my phone from the air, I stand rooted to the spot, watching in a mix of horror and fascination as the drinks drench the woman in a kaleidoscope of liquid colors, the glasses clattering to the ground around her.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she erupts, her voice sharp as the cold and the shock from being drenched catch up to her. "You asshole!"

The waitress is quick to apologize, bending down to clean up the mess and calling over another staff member for help. Yet, my attention barely registers the bustling around us. My gaze is drawn irresistibly to the woman.

Her top, now plastered to her skin and so see-through she may as well not have it on, reveals the contours of a white lacy bra covering what promises to be perfect breasts. The sight of which sends an unwelcome surge of desire through me—a reminder of how long it's been since I've had a woman in my bed.

My eyes trace the line of her body, up her graceful neck, to her raised chin with luxurious, shiny dark hair bobbing around it until I finally meet a pair of hazel eyes alight with fury.

Despite the anger in her gaze, a singular thought pierces through the maelstrom of my thoughts— she's fucking breathtakingly beautiful. My pants are now becoming a little uncomfortable, and my dick is acting like one of those water-dowsing sticks that have found the motherload.

Her eyes lock onto mine, sparking with a mix of anger and disbelief, as if she's sizing up whether I'm worth the effort of her words. Then, without warning, she launches into me.

"Watch where you're fucking going!" She seethes, picking garnish off her arms and shoulders. "You may not be aware of this as you seem to be caught up in your own little world on your phone, but this is a bar that's quite packed. There are other people here—you could've seriously hurt someone by not looking where you're going!"

I'm taken aback by her sharp tongue and the sheer nerve of this slip of a woman standing her ground against me. No one's talked to me like that in... well, ever.

No one has ever thrown me off balance like this either. She obviously has no clue who I am, or if she does, she doesn't give a damn, and that irks me, but I can't deny the intrigue that follows—a spark ignited by her defiance.

As she rages at me, her chest heaves with anger, drawing my eyes once again to her incredible breasts. The cocktails have spread like an invisible force, erasing all traces of the original color of her shirt and leaving only smears of color from the drinks now tattooed onto her skin.

Her shirt is nothing more than a sheer film, revealing the lithe, lean lines of the naked flesh it was meant to conceal.

I'm really starting to feel uncomfortable, and I'm so glad that I wore my shirt over my pants tonight to conceal the fact that my dick is pitching a tent in suddenly too-tight pants.

And fuck if that lacy bra wasn't designed to tittivate. To make a man want to run his fingers over it, knowing the material would tease the nipples to hard points.

I could all but feel the material brush my hands as I imagined cupping the delectable mounds encased within it.

"Hello!" She snaps her fingers at me. "My face is here !" She swishes her hand near her face before her eyes narrow suspiciously. "Oh… please don't tell me that bulldozing me over was your twisted version of a pickup move." She raises her eyebrows and gives me a disgusted look. "If that's the case, you're failing spectacularly."

That's it! While weirdly turned on by the little spitfire, her magnificent tits, and her incredible body, she's starting to push me a bit too far.

"Believe me, if I wanted to get your attention, I'd choose a less... disruptive introduction." I raise an eyebrow, running my eyes over her suggestively. "Maybe I could say the same for you. Knocking into me in order to grab my attention." My eyes drop once again to her breasts. "Well, now you've grabbed the attention of every man in the bar as well."

I pat myself on the back for how smooth my attempt at smoothing things over came out, as it belies how I'm feeling inside. I'm bordering on angry at being publicly verbally attacked, intrigued by my verbal attacker, and in a strange territory of not actually knowing how to handle this situation.

While I don't hit women, the thought of putting this little firecracker over my knee and spanking her makes an alluring picture and my little boy scout down below even harder.

"Oh wow!" She looked at me in amazement. But not the good kind of amazement. The type that states you're not just an asshole but a fucking dickwad! "Now I know why you stumbled into me. That giant ego and big head of yours must be really tough to carry around. Do you topple over a lot?"

Touche! I think it, but I'm not going to say it out loud. She's rather mouthy for someone who comes up to my chest. I could pick her up with one hand like she was a feather, yet she's shown no fear of me whatsoever while her outrage boiled all over me.

I want her more and more while at the same time thinking of the most pleasurable ways I can punish her for her attack.

A man slightly taller than my own six-three walks up to us, shrugging off his jacket and holding it out to her. He looks oddly familiar; his green eyes hold a hint of steel in them, and he carries himself like a man who's aware of everything around him, but his voice is toned to be non-threatening.

However, there is no doubt in my mind whoever he is, he's not someone to be taken lightly—he's dangerous. He stands, blocking her from the leering eyes of the men in the bar, and gives the woman one of those soft, comforting smiles that any other man could see right through.

It was the smile of a predator luring in his prey and doing so with the ease and confidence of an apex predator, which in itself was annoying the shit out of me as he asserted his dominance in my arena. I glance toward Olaf, the biggest of my bouncers, and incline my head.

I want him to watch fuckface as something tells me he is not just here as a night in shining armor—he wanted me to see him.

"Excuse me, miss. I don't mean to be rude, but you may need this." Fuckface smiles politely at the woman.

The woman suddenly becomes aware of the full extent of her predicament, and her cheeks flame. She grabs the offered garment, pulling it on with haste.

A glance around the bar pushes my buttons even more when I see how nearly every man in here is noticing her, and I don't like the way they're looking at her, either. As I know the thoughts that ran through my mind looking at the little wild cat, I can imagine they're all thinking it, too.

I'm about to suggest she come to my office as I have a shirt she can wear and a bathroom she can clean up in when my mind is wiped clean of all thoughts.

I watch in utter fascination as she raises her chin alight with flaming red cheeks and bits of garnish adorning her hair. She squares her shoulders like a queen, pulling the jacket together in the front. She turns toward fuckface, her features softening and making my breath catch in my throat when she sucker punches me right in the gut with a smile that could power my entire bar.

"Thank you." Her voice is no longer fuelled with rage when she addresses fuckface.

That is when two thoughts pop into my mind. I'm completely intrigued and bedazzled. Yes, I said bedazzled. It's like her smile actually sparkles and sprinkles everything in the vicinity of it with its sparkly shit, making me feel like I've been bedazzled like a teenager's phone. While that smile was not meant for me, I was within its radiance and got hit with its sparkle that went straight to my loins.

The second thought is that if any other man comes near her again tonight, I'm going to rip their head off and shove it up their ass. Like I'm about to do to fuckface any minute if he doesn't take his gallant ass back to where it was a few minutes ago, and once we're in my office, I'll make sure to have his alcohol-ladened Tom Ford leather bomber jacket taken back to him.

After which, I'll make sure Oslo politely escorts him from my bar, making sure the man smiles for the camera near the door so I can find out who the fuck he is.

Okay, so now I've had a third thought—I want this woman—she's mine! At least for tonight, anyway. A most exquisite distraction at the end of a shitty day. Oh yes, I've definitely found my company for tonight.

While I have a hard and fast rule about not fucking around with the staff, I have no such rule about the patrons of my establishment. Especially those who wander into the darker side of my club, the Dark Velvet Lounge. Now, I just have to convince her of what steamy fun we could have together.

"You're welcome." Fuckface returns her smile and bows. His eyes turn to me with a cool assessment. "The lady's right. You really should look where you're going to avoid getting hurt ."

Was that a threat?

"Please let me know where I can return your jacket," the woman asks him, cutting off my reply, and, to my surprise, she takes a step back toward me.

That's when I catch the briefest flash in her eyes that the man is making her uncomfortable. Like me, she's sensed the underlying danger coiled inside him. This pisses me off even more when only a few seconds ago, she was laying into me like I'm not dangerous at all.

Have I somehow lost my danger signals in the last few hours? Or was she so infuriated she didn't care, and now that she's cooled off, her danger radar is back in place? I'm not sure if that's going to work in my favor with my new plans for her.

"No need." Fuckface looks at the woman and gives her a gentle smile which makes me dislike him more. What's his game? "Keep it. A souvenir to remember this night by."

"That's very kind of you." The woman gives him another smile, only this time with less wattage.

Take that, asshole. Your five-thousand-dollar jacket didn't even make her flinch. I know exactly what kind of play that was. I've seen it on arrogant rich guys with too much money before. Hand her your pricey jacket like you have a million others back home. Fuckwit!

He gives me a cool glance before smiling politely at the woman and tips his head once more. "Have a good evening further."

His eyes meet mine for a brief second, and I can't help but feel he's assessing me or warning me. The feeling we've met before grows stronger, but I can't place him. I know most of the crime families faces.

He's definitely not one of them. I also know that if he is part of a crime family, he's on top of that family's hierarchy. I glance back as he walks away and frown. I know I've seen him somewhere before. But like that thought that teases the back of your brain that just can't quite reach, I can't place him.

No time to ponder on fuckface, not when the woman turns and is about to walk away. I can't let that happen. I grab her arm and spin her around while crunching over shards of glass.

"Shit, I thought this mess was cleaned up," I growl and turn toward the bar for Helen to get over here before turning back to the woman standing stock still and staring at my hand clamped around her arm. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bulldoze into you like that. I was in a hurry to get to my office, and I wasn't watching where I was going."

Helen walks over. "Shit, didn't May clean this up?" Helen clenches her teeth and glances around before looking at the woman I'm holding captive. "Are you okay, honey?"

"Except for flamingly embarrassed about showing off my wares to the entire bar," she answers Helen, showing me yet another side of her as humor flickers in her hazel eyes. "I scored a Tom Ford bomber jacket."

Helen chuckles. "And it's a really magnificent jacket, too." She reaches out and feels it. "Fuck, it probably cost more than most people make in a couple of months."

"Can you get one of your wait staff to clean up this mess, please?" I say through gritted teeth, wanting to cut this conversation short.

"They're on their way," Helen points in the direction. "Can I get you a drink on the house for your pain?" She asks the woman, glancing at me, smiling cheekily. "How about a bottle of our finest champagne on the house?"

"Why don't you have that sent up to my office so I can offer, Miss…." I look at the woman, hoping she offers me her name.

"It's okay." She completely dodges my attempt to get her name. "I'd better try to find my friend and leave." She shivers. "I'm all sticky and wet."

Fuck! Those are not two words that should be strung together in front of a horny man that's just had a glimpse of her practically naked. Already, my mind had sprung to how many ways I could help her get rid of the messy alcohol and make sure she was sticky and wet in much more pleasurable ways.

"Oh, no, at least get the champagne first," Helen tells her with a wink before looking at me. "Let me know where to send it to." She walks off as one of the wait staff starts cleaning around us.

I move us away from the broken glass.

"Please. Let me make this right. You don't have to cut your or your friend's evening short because of this accident."

I feel her stiffen and realize I still have her captive in my vice-like grip. "Sorry." I let her go, hoping she doesn't bolt. "I have a spare shirt in my office that won't look as good as yours, but at least it won't show off your wares." I can't help but notice the slight curve that lifts the corners of my mouth. To hide it, I glance around the room. "Besides, I can't have you make me look bad in front of my patrons by ruthlessly letting you freeze to death."

"Oh?" Her eyes widen curiously. "Your patrons?" Her brows crease. "Do you manage the club?"

"I do," I tell her. It's not a lie. It's simply not the whole truth. "You can verify it with any of the staff in the bar."

I see something flash in her eyes, a mix of uncertainty and intrigue. "Even those two large bouncers that, for some reason, remind me of the moai. You know, the stone statues on Easter Island."

"I know what the moai are." I have no idea why I find myself defending my knowledge of Easter Island. "And yes, even those guys."

I glance at the door, and when I see what she means, I can't unsee it. My Dark Velvet Lounge bouncers will, from this moment forward, forever become known as the heads of Easter Islands.

"Please let me get this mess cleaned up." I don't know how to do puppy dog eyes or come across as a nice guy. It's just not who I am. It's not really a look I need in my line of work, but I give it a try.

Although, as soon as I see her brows shoot up, the look of indignation on her face, I realize puppy dog eyes don't mean shit if you don't back them up with the correct words.

"So I'm a mess now?" A spark of anger flashes in her eyes that bore into mine.

"Well…" I reach out toward her hair, and she flinches backward. "Relax. You have a cherry in your hair." I pull a maraschino cherry from her hair and place it on the tray of a passing waiter. "And to be honest, before you put that jacket on, you kinda looked like you walked through a newly painted rainbow."

My breath catches as her mouth lifts into a smile, and I see the anger turn to humor in her eyes, making me realize she was toying with me. The little spitfire just gets more and more intriguing, and once again, my pants start to feel too tight in the crotch area as pictures of her lithe body and firm tits rush into my mind.

Shake it off, or I'll definitely scare her away if she glimpses my little boy scout getting ready to pitch another tent in my pants. He seems to be super busy tonight and getting really frustrated that his attempts at impressing a female with his incredible pitching skills are going to waste.

She gives a soft laugh, which only encourages Boy Scout to try to get his tent higher. Think of something else. But I really can't. Not when she starts to turn on that bedazzling smile once more, which really should come with a warning or get banned.

Fuck! If she were mine, I'd put a goddam muzzle on her as her smile once again lights up the bar, and all eyes turn to her. Her cheeks start to go red when she realizes that she's still the number one attraction in the bar, and for the first time, I see a hint of innocence in her eyes.

"Thank you," she says, glancing around at the leering looks she's getting. "I think I'll take you up on the offer of a clean shirt."

I force myself to keep a stoic expression on my face. I can't let her see just how the little minx is really getting beneath my skin and how much I want to drag her into my office away from leering, drooling men and then have my wicked way with her.

"Wise choice." I give her a slight bow and point in the direction of my office. "Shall we?"

As I lead her to my office for a change of clothes, I catch Helen's attention and ask her to send the champagne to my office. As we climb the stairs to my office that looks out over the club, I can't help but notice how good her ass looks in her tight black jeans.

My hand itches to slide over those mounds and cup them as I drive myself into her.

Mental shake. Stoic expression. Deep breath. Why the hell is this woman having such an effect on me? This is what I get for going so long without sex. As I get into the office, the phone rings.

"I'm Andrey," I introduce myself, holding out my hand. The phone stops ringing.

"Bella," she replies with a shy smile.

She places her small hand in mine. The instant spark that zaps through me hits every nerve ending in my body, and now my boy scout has pushed the tent as high as he can and is trying to undo the zipper of my pants.

Thank God the phone rings again, and I have an excuse to turn away and hide my hard-on behind my desk.

"Excuse me, I have to take this," I say, surprised at how smooth my voice is as I take a seat behind the desk. I pick the phone up and point toward the bathroom. "You're welcome to use the bathroom. There's a shower in there if you need it."

Fuck why did I have to mention the shower? Images of hot, watery sex flash through my mind, and now I'm in pain. I'm so rock-hard.

My tone is abrupt as I answer the phone, not really hearing who is on the other end as I watch her glance around the office before walking toward the bathroom.