Page 5 of Forced & Owned By the Bratva Boss

Very quickly, I run my gaze over the lady sitting on the high barstool—the customer I hadn’t properly noticed until now.

She’s pretty. The kind of pretty that would drop jaws and make people look twice, with skin like dark chocolate, catlike eyes highlighted by gray contact lenses, and long, clustered lashes that flutter with every blink.

I know all our regular customers’ faces, and hers is new. I haven’t seen her around here before.

The lady flashes a half-smile, exposing the silver smiley piercing beneath her upper lip, and lifts one shoulder lazily before she speaks.

“The man in VIP? The one you’ve been peeking at?” She speaks above the noise. “He’s had his eyes on you all night.”

The man?

I stifle a chuckle. If only she knew that the man she casually refers to is, in fact, the owner of this nightclub, Cascade—the powerful and feared Igor Nazarov, himself. He’s a god among mere men, but that doesn’t faze me.

The problem is, while most people cower in his presence, I gawk at him like a hopelessly bedazzled spectator.

Wait.

My thoughts screech to a halt.

Did she say…

My eyes widen and I lean forward, my lips partly open. “Did you…did you say he’s been staring at me?”

“Yup.”

She answers so casually, like she’s not done irreparable damage to my heart rate with that bit of information.

My heart starts racing, thumping against my chest. I don’t know what to say. The words stay stuck in my throat, unable to form properly.

The pretty lady, on the other hand, seems to be having a field day watching my expressions while sipping her martini.

Damn it.

Why am I so affected? I really shouldn’t care, but I do.

My pulse stutters at the mere possibility that he’s been looking my way. The lady hops off the stool and, even as she swipes her card to pay for her drink and walks off with a knowing smirk on her lips, I’m stuck on the spot, replaying her words over and over again.

No. This...this is wrong.

I should be focused on doing my job.

Still, against all rational thoughts, my eyes wander to the first floor, Cascade’s private area, where all the important people are. Where he is.

There are flashing lights that, frankly, almost blind me, a dozen half-naked girls crawling on thirsty men whose faces I can barely see, and club attendants heading up the stairs with bottles of wine that cost as much as a house in the Hamptons.

I’m almost done spying, about to withdraw and return to my duty, when my gaze lands on the person I’m seeking.

And I nearly die when I realize that, not only is he seated there, looking like an angel of the night in his signature dark suit, but his gaze firmly meets mine, like it’s been on me the entire time.

The oxygen in my lungs disappears and I suddenly feel light-headed.

For seconds, he doesn’t look away, like a ruthless captor holding me prisoner.

I might be imagining things, and I can’t be certain because of the lights, but I think I see his mouth tilt into a small smirk, a silent dare for me to keep looking at him.

If it is, then unfortunately for him, I’ll gladly be a sore loser in this game.

Completely overwhelmed, I swiftly tear my gaze away, and my hand flies to my chest as I struggle to catch my breath.