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“I’m not scared of him.”
I looked at her flatly. Sasha could pick her up with one hand and launch her off the balcony if he wanted to. Hell, he could do the same to me — he just neededtwohands to balance out my height.
“That cake is going to be raw,” I said, turning my attention to the TV.
“I think they can make it.” She offered me the bag of chips without looking.
Shaking my head, I pushed the bag back toward her. “No way. She put too much liquor in the batter. It’s not going to have time to cook off. Should have just soaked it at the end.”
Frankie turned and eyed me with a furrowed brow. “You don’t bake. How do you know that?”
I folded my arms across my chest and shrugged. “Saw it on another show. Seemed like a good tip. Just kind of stuck in my head, I guess.”
“How much TV have you been watching lately?”
I shrugged again. It’s not like I was keeping track... But Ihadmanaged to binge three entire seasons of this particular baking show in the matter of one weekend. Between that, the movies, and whatever sport I happened to stumble across, I’d say the answer to her question was “a lot.”
Before she could comment, the front door opened.
My heart skipped a beat when Sasha and Valery walked through. I mean, I knew it would be him. Who else would it be? I just didn’t expectValeryto be with him.
Unlike his old crew, I didn’t know many of the people in Sasha’s new world. There was Misha, obviously, and Anton, Misha’s driver. A guy name Maxim showed up now and again, but he didn’t speak much English, so I didn’t know what his story was. Valery, on the other hand, spoke English very well and seemed over the moon with his new boss? Partner? I didn’t even know what the fucking dynamic was between him and Sasha. I just knew when they went out together, Sasha usually came home blitzed or covered in blood. Sometimes both.
Sasha stopped so quickly Valery ran into the back of him. He stumbled to the side, saying something in Russian to Sasha that might have been a question. Either Sasha didn’t hear, or he didn’t care, because he didn’t reply.
“Roan?” Sasha’s gaze slid from Frankie to me, leaving an icy trail in its wake.
“Look who came for a visit,” I said, trying to dredge up as much enthusiasm as I could for what was bound to become a fucking shit show.
Frankie lifted her hand in a stiff wave. At least all five fingers were accounted for.
Valery said something quietly, glancing at me every now and again. Sasha shook his head. Clearing his throat, he disappeared down the hall, leaving Valery standing in our foyer with his hands somehow shoved in the pockets of his tight-ass pants.
Sasha was still in a suit from earlier, but Valery looked like he was getting ready to go to a club — black pants that looked like they were painted on and a bright, patterned shirt you could see from a mile off. A thick silver chain around his neck and a matching one on his wrist completed the ensemble. He was hot. And fun, apparently. He could go out with Sasha and socialize and no one would look twice at them, except to comment how fucking hot they weretogether.
But me? Sasha wouldn’t let me step foot in Delirium. Or any other club in the city, for that matter. Withorwithout him. So going out like an actual couple for drinks and whatnot? Not in the cards for me.
“Going out?” I asked Valery.
He tipped his chin up, like a nod, but cooler. Of course he couldn’t just nod like a normal human. I assumed it was the only answer I was going to get, since he looked away with a bored expression and ran his fingers through his dark hair.
A pang of jealousy shot through me. It didn’t matter that I didn’t like going to clubs. Even if the music sucked, it was way too fucking loud, and the drinks were overpriced, I still hated the idea that Valery was going to be out with Sasha until God fucking knew when, doing God fucking knew what. He had a freedom I’d never have and I hated him for it.
It was hard not to compare myself to him in every aspect. His dark hair and dark, smoldering eyes instead of my boring blond and blue. He was as tall as Sasha and nearly as built opposed to me — a few inches shorter, way less muscles, and zero tattoos. Russian badass versus American prep. Valery fit in Sasha’s world. I didn’t. I was kidding myself if I thought I ever would.
Sasha appeared shortly thereafter in a new outfit. Black shirt, unbuttoned, showing off both his broad chestandhis tattoos. I tried to comfort myself with the fact it wasn’t entirely a sexual thing. After seeing this little peacock display enough times, I’d come to learn all of the tattoos were basically Sasha’s criminal resume. If you were stupid enough to even think about tangling with him, his ink was fair warningnotto, kind of like a rattlesnake’s signature sound.
In addition to changing his shirt, Sasha switched to a pair of gray pants. They weren’t as tight as Valery’s but they didn’t leave much to the imagination, either. They were definitely going to a club. He didn’t wear shit like this to go torture people. Although, he did murder that one guy in Russia in a similar outfit. So, who the hell knew?
Sasha looked at Valery and tossed his head toward the door. Despite being told silently to get the fuck out, Valery lingered for a minute before he ultimately smirked and wandered back into the hallway. Sasha waited until his… friend was gone before turning to face the two of us with an arched eyebrow.
“Is this for business or pleasure?” I asked, trying my best not to sneer like a jilted housewife. Obviously I knew the answer, but I wanted to see what would actually come out of his mouth.
“I have a meeting,” he replied flatly before looking at Frankie. “Are you going to be here when I get back?”
She pretended to mull it over and shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. What time are you and your little fuck boy planning on coming back?”
“She’s not staying,” I interjected, silencing Sasha’s immediate snarl. Although, part of me was glad Frankie said it. At least I wasn’t the only one who thought Valery looked a littletoogood tonight and she didn’t even know him.
