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Without hesitation, Nikolai leads me to the dance floor, his hand firm around my waist. I can feel the eyes of others on us as we make our way, but it’s as if I’m under a spell, and nothing else matters but the connection between us.
I’m not even nervous. I guess that’s what trust feels like.
The song that was playing ends as we find our spot, and I watch as Nikolai’s eyes light up with anticipation of the next one. Without delay, a new melody fills the room, and my body respond to the rhythm as Nikolai begins to guide me.
I follow his lead, allowing him to move me through the steps. The intimacy of the dance is electrifying, our bodies moving in unison, each movement deliberate and filled with purpose.
His hand on my back, his gaze locked with mine, I lose myself in the dance. The world fades away, and it’s just us, two souls entwined in the rhythm of the music. The more we dance, the more I feel a connection that goes beyond mere physical attraction. I’m drawn to him in a way I’ve never felt before.
He leans into my ear, speaking just loud enough for me to hear him over the music. “You’re doing great, babe. You’re a natural.”
“You’re just a good teacher,” I reply, shaking my head. “I can’t dance.”
“But you already are,” he says, grinning as he lets me go and I realize I’m still moving in time with the music. Either he’s worked some magic on me, or I really do know how to dance. It doesn’t really matter to me which one it is, only that I feel incredible letting loose on the dance floor.
Nikolai grabs me again and spins me around like a top, proving that despite my skill, he still knows far more than I do. He catches me just before I fall, holding me steady and allowing me to sink back into the Salsa rhythm.
I can’t stop smiling, but Nikolai doesn’t make me feel the least bit self-conscious about it. I could be grinning like a fool, and he’d still call me beautiful.
What’s more is that I’d believe him.
The experience is terrifying and exhilarating all at once. I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too. Each touch, each glance seems to linger a little longer, filled with a new depth of emotion.
Our bodies are close, but it’s more than just physical. It’s as if our souls are reaching out to each other, finding something they’ve been seeking all along. I’ve never felt anything like this before, and I know that I’m changed.
The dance ends, and we stand there for a moment, still locked in each other’s gaze. The next song plays but it sounds distant and unreal, a mere backdrop to the connection that has just been brought to life between us.
I can see in his eyes now that he feels it too. There’s a vulnerability in them that wasn’t there before, like his thick brick walls have crumbled, and I’m finally allowed to see the boy hiding inside the savage.
I see the parts of him that he’s kept hidden since being hardened by the Bratva lifestyle, the laughter he shared with his brother as a boy, and the love his mother selflessly gave him. I see everything now, and it changes who Nikolai is to me.
He takes my hand, leading me off the dance floor and to the bar. I feel like I’m floating, finally free from fear and doubt. I’m weightless.
We both order water. The only buzz we need has already been achieved from the incredible experience of falling in love with Nikolai. I wouldn’t admit it to him just yet, but neither of us needs to say anything to know. It’s happening without words.
As I finish my drink, I look across the dance floor in search of a bathroom.
Nikolai reads my mind. “By the entrance, on the right.”
“Thanks. I’ll just be a moment,” I say, hopping off the bar stool. His eyes are on me as I walk away, and I feel confident as I take long strides and swing my hips. It feels like nothing can break my power until I check my phone and discover three missed calls and a dozen texts from Diego.
I gasp, changing my direction from the bathroom and barreling out the door to find out what’s going on.
Suddenly, I feel guilty for having gone out at all.
21
Dream
My hands shake so hard it’s difficult to hold my phone still enough to watch the video that Diego sent me thirty minutes ago. I know it’s Eddy, but he doesn’t look like himself at all. His face is all torn up, like they’ve been lashing him with a whip across it, and his eyes are so bloodshot that I’d be surprised if his vision wasn’t permanently damaged.
Why is Diego sending me this? It’s like he knows I’m out here having fun, and he wants me to feel bad that Eddy is suffering in the meantime.
I lean against the brick wall, trying not to puke when the acrid smell of cigarette smoke invades my nostrils. I wave my hand in front of my face, guilt eating up my insides as I scroll through the other messages Diego sent me.
He doesn’t seem angry, just persistent, and he insists that we meet up tomorrow morning instead of Monday.
Fuck, that doesn’t give us enough time to plan anything, but perhaps that was his intention. He wants to force me to play the Cartel’s game, and since they know I’m here with Nikolai, whatever trust they had that I wouldn’t sidestep the rules has vanished.
