Page 2 of Dancing With Distraction

“Let me guess, and if I’m right, you’ll go back to your table and continue your night like a good girl.” Good girl. The words thrill me, and I smirk. “You want to get on this side of the rope.”

“Actually, no,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest to push up my perfectly-sized C-cup breasts. His eyes fall there. So predictable. “I was going to ask if you’d like a drink.”

“‘Course you were, sweetheart. Do you know how many women I get with the same bullshit every night?”

“Is there a problem, Darren?” One of the men who arrived with my guy comes over. His eyes settle on me and narrow. “You?”

“Hey,” I say, smiling wide and giving a little wave. “Nice suit. Tom Ford, right?”

“I’ve got it under control,” Darren tells him, and I hate the way his expression makes me feel like I’m some irritating fly and not worth his time.

“Yah know what? Fuck you, pair of twats,” I mutter, walking away and rejoining my table.

“Went well?” teases Nell.

“Stuck-up arseholes,” I tell them, snatching my second drink. “I need shots and dancing.”

I don’t know how many shots is too many, but I’ve surpassed that limit and then some. My vision is fifty-fifty with blurriness, and I’m pretty sure I should put my latest cocktail down, but I hate waste, so I continue to suck it through the tiny straw and ignore my inner voice saying I’ll regret this by the morning.

“What about tiny Tim?” I scream with laughter, and the girls join in.

“That’s not fair,” yells Phoebe, wiping away her tears of laughter. “He doesn’t count.”

“Because of his tiny penis?” asks Ivy, and we laugh harder.

“He was sweet,” Phoebe argues, “and perfect for me.”

“So, why did you dump him?” I ask, arching a brow.

“Because he had a tiny penis,” she confirms, setting off another round of cackling.

“Dancing,” I yell, pulling Ivy to stand. The others follow, and as a classic Madonna song blares from the speakers, we scream in delight and push our way onto the dance floor.

I’m throwing my arms around and singing along when I notice him watching. Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t look pleased. In fact, he looks positively irritated, and somehow, that spurs me on more.

The music switches and Sean Paul replaces Madonna. I grin in his direction, keeping eye contact as I dip my hips, ensuring my dress hitches up my thighs.

He leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest. I notice that he’s now removed his jacket and the white shirt he’s wearing pulls tight over his defined muscles, and I itch to feel them. I bite my lower lip—it always works—and he flicks his hand to get the attention of his security. I’m elated that I’m about to get lucky. The man lowers enough for my guy to whisper into his ear, never taking his eyes off me. I’m almost certain he’s asking for his man to bring me to him. They both look in my direction, and I get closer to Phoebe and say, “I think I’ve won him over.” She rolls her eyes.

The man leaves the VIP area and makes his way towards me. He’s followed by another, and my heart thumps in my chest when he leans into me. “It’s time for you to leave.”

Dmitry

The woman looks positively mad. Her smile fades as Marshall gives her my message, and her eyes, which were filled with lust, are now glaring at me in anger. She spits some words back to Marshall, and I have no doubt they’re obscene, but he can handle her and he does. A second later, he takes her by the upper arm and escorts her towards the exit.

I release a breath and go back to my laptop. She was a distraction, and I have no time for that.

Roman takes another call, and this time, his eyes fall to me and he grins. “Seems your admirer is causing a scene outside,” he tells me.

“She’s less than five-foot-six, what trouble can she cause?” I bark in irritation. “Deal with her.”

“She’s demanding you go outside,” he adds, a small laugh escaping him.

I sigh heavily. I’d never usually entertain women like her, but she intrigues me, so I stand, grabbing my jacket.

Roman follows my move, looking confused. “We didn’t mean for you to go and deal, Boss. It’s being taken care of.”

“Nonsense. I want to see who’s giving my most depraved men a run for their money.”

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