Page 169 of Sinful Blaze

I down my mocktail and decide I need to make Pasha go on a little hunt when he gets here, which my gut says will be sooner rather than later. And when I reach the dance floor, I don’t even have to wade through the crowd to find my friends—they grab me by the wrists and pull me to their spot among the pulsing beat and flashing lights.

This is what I needed. Alcohol, too, but I can survive a few more weeks without it as long as my friends are here to help me escape in other ways. Like letting the music drown out all my intrusive thoughts.

Someone’s hands start rubbing my hips. They’re not Pasha’s. I turn around to tell him off, but the strange guy is too close and tightening his grip too hard.

“Hey there, sexy,” he drawls. Good Lord, I can smell the liquor seeping from his greasy pores. “Come grind that juicy ass on me.”

“No thanks.” I pry his fingers off my hips. He has the gall to moan as he stares openly at my cleavage. “Seriously. I’m not interested.”

“Don’t be like that. I’ll do you so good…”

“I have a man, thank you.” I peel his hands away firmly. “Now, go bother someone else.”

“But I want you, baby,” he slurs against my neck. “And I don’t see your man here, so…”

Hazel has her back turned while she dances, but Sofi notices I’m not next to her and does a spin to try and find me. When she does, our gazes lock and her eyes widen.

Help me! I mouth.

She starts to wade through the crowd, but it’s too packed. Shit, I should have stayed at the booth. She won’t get to me in time before he…

Then Sofi freezes. Her horrified stare flicks to just over my shoulder.

And the horror melts into a saucy little smirk.

What the hell?

Those gross hands instantly leave my body. The people who were bumping and grinding next to us stumble out of the way, all of them staring in fear at the guy behind me.

“You must have a death wish, motherfucker.” Pasha isn’t yelling, but his voice slices through the music anyway. One of his huge hands has taken up a grip on the creepy guy’s throat.

“Calm down, man!” the perv squeaks. “The lady wanted?—”

“For you to leave her alone. She asked nicely. Me? I’m not nearly as polite.”

The sleazebag freezes. It’s a good thing Pasha has him held up by his neck, because it looks like he might slump to the floor as the pieces start clicking together.

“Look, man, I’m sorry! I didn’t know?—”

Pasha looks over to the group of guards now flanking a pissed-off Makari and nods. Mak returns the nod and makes one swift gesture.

In the blink of an eye, my assailant is seized by either arm and dragged off the dance floor. The music drowns out his apologies and pleas, which is just as well. I’m hoping it’ll drown out the inevitable screams that’ll come once Pasha’s men get to work on him, too.

This time, when a pair of strong hands find my hips, I sink into them gratefully.

“Let’s go,” Pasha says close to my ear.

It’s not a question.

I let him convey me through the crowd, underneath a curtain, and down dimly lit, winding hallways until we enter a large office.

Inside, the perv is tied to a chair, with Makari and two Bratva guards looming over him. Pasha relinquishes my hand, then saunters over and takes up a stance in front of him.

The man quakes. “I swear, man, I didn’t mean anything! She’s drunk! I tried to push her off me, but she was too drunk and too?—”

“My woman. My pregnant woman. That’s who you mean?”

He stills. “Uh… no. I mean, not… uh…”

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