“Oh. Okay then.”
As the silence filled in, the attendant returned with our drinks, and I’d never been so fast to snatch up a champagne. It wasn’t the taste I was looking for, of course, but it was alcohol, which was all that mattered at present.
“I really would have thought you’d order a scotch.”
I looked over at Ivan as he sipped his drink, my stare lingering on the caramel-brown liquid.
“I…I got flustered. Next time.”
When he finished with his sip, Ivan reached out and took the champagne from my hand, replacing it with his rocks glass.
“Problem solved.”
“I…You don’t have to do that.” My voice was so damn squeaky I wanted to scream.
“I know I don’t. I wanted to. Besides, it’ll keep my head a bit clearer, too.”
My body warmed, and Ivan stared at me until I took a drink of scotch. It was perfect, definitely aged, and the precise thing I wanted at the moment. It felt so silly to be so touched by his gesture. He’d just swapped drinks with me, but something about it made my chest squeeze—in a good way.
After amusing ourselves for nearly an hour, someone announced over a speaker that the betting was now open and that the fight would begin in thirty minutes.
“Well, it looks like the time has come. Finish your drink, and we’ll head to the main floor.”
I did as instructed, following Ivan as he led the way back to the ring from our private little, velvet-covered VIP booth.
As we walked, I pulled Ivan closer, whispering in his ears. “What did this guy do that has your boss so upset?”
He laughed lightly as I lowered my heels back to the ground and looped his arm through mine to lead me through the crowd.
“Boss is a bit of a stretch. I prefer…client. But in any case, Sergei and Lev are pissed because the guy is looking to make a bigger name for himself. In order to do that, he has to work with his allies to push out Vadims’ holdings. Steal the territory.”
I tried to keep up with what he meant, understanding that Ivan had to be a bit discreet since we were out in public.
“So, they’re upset because a competitor is looking to set up ‘stores’ where they already have businesses.”
With a grin, Ivan nodded, eyeing me as the corners of his mouth turned down. “Exactly. That’s a very apt way to put it.”
A nervous chuckle bled from me. “I guess I’m sort of getting the hang of this.”
“Well, then, let’s see if you can keep up at the bookie.”
We made our way over to the large area that was bustling with activity. There were dozens of people clamoring to place their bets at the counter, and only three people were taking “customers” at a time.
Several intimidating bouncers circled the place, their hulking forms making Ivan look average in comparison, which was saying something. Their stares roamed over the crowd onthe lookout for anything that might signal foul play or sudden violence.
Considering the place's illegal nature, I was a bit surprised to see them. Still, I imagined that crowd control was necessary whenever there were large groups of people, and not even criminals wanted to get injured in a brawl.
As we approached the counter, Ivan grabbed my wrist, holding me back from walking up to the next available teller.
“What?”
He gestured to the man being helped at the next station to our left. “Donovan. Let’s get in line behind him.”
“This may sound childish,” I whispered, “but you want us to cut in line? Is that wise?”
Ivan smirked, pulling me after him as he pushed through a few drunk patrons to the line behind Donovan. When we got there, he paused, reaching for a woman’s thin purse strap.
Slipping out of his sleeve was a tiny pair of scissors. I didn’t even see him grab them, and then Ivan was cutting the connection from the strap to the purse’s body. The thing flung loose, tumbling to the ground.