Page 5 of Ruthless Mafia Daddy

She chuckled slightly, slipping her slender hands into mine. “Arielle. You don’t have to do that. Creeps like him are almost unavoidable in places like this.”

“Places like this?” I said, arching my brows. “I don’t know what you’re used to, Arielle, but I promise you this was an anomaly, and you won’t hear of a similar occurrence.”

“So, it’s me then. I’m the problem,” she muttered, her face falling slightly.

Her little confession caught me off guard, and I was about to counter her claim, but the slight tremble in her lower lips gave her away.

I narrowed my eyes at her, and the laughter brewing inside her finally pushed to the surface.

I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips as I watched her. Usually, I preferred the head of anyone who attempted to make fun of me on a pole, but I guess if they wore a red dress, had the brightest baby blue eyes and long blonde hair, I’d let it slide.

“So, tell me, Arielle,” I started, steering us to the bar. We were sticking out like a sore thumb, standing on the dance floor while everyone around us had turned away from the scene and resumed dancing.

“Do you come here often?”

She scrunched her nose a bit, “Is that the best you’ve got?”

“Are you going to attack me at every corner?” I playfully shot back, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.

She had a fighting spirit, but she was cute about it, almost like a kitten.

“No, I don’t come here often. I’m only here because my friend forgot to confirm our invitation to a gallery opening, and I couldn’t dress up and go nowhere.” She answered, hopping on the barstool.

I clutched my chest. “So, my club was an afterthought then? I’m hurt.”

“It’s not bad. I think I’ll visit again,” she replied, holding my gaze.

“So,” I cleared my throat, gathering my thoughts. “You said you originally planned to go to an art gallery?”

Her entire face lit up at the mention of the art gallery. “Yes. There’s this underground artist I’ve been keeping tabs on. His name is Xavier, and he was having his first exhibit. Now, I’ll have to see the collection after the exhibition like every regular person.” Her voice fell slightly at the end.

I loved how animated she was and how every emotion flowed through her effortlessly. You could tell how innocent she was. She was very different from the women in my world. She was missing the practiced smile and overly high-pitched voice. Everything about her seemed genuine and easy. The right thing to do would’ve been to leave her alone. It’s what every self-respecting man would do. But thank God, I’ve never claimed to be one.

So, I continued my quest. “So, you’re an art lover, huh?”

“Yes. I love to see stories and emotions immortalized on a canvas,” she replied with a wistful voice, and I saw my opening.

“I love art, too. Not really in the way you love it, but in a way that makes you want to be surrounded by it.”

“You’re a collector?” The excited look returned to her face. “Do you have a gallery or something?” she questioned, practically bouncing on her chair.

“Easy tiger,” I chuckled. “I won’t call it a gallery, but I do have a space in my house dedicated to artworks. I’m sure if you look around, you can find something from your Xavier guy.”

She regarded me for a while, a curious look in her eyes. My invitation was loud and shameless, and I counted down till she was done with her assessment and made up her mind.

“Your night was almost ruined at my club. It’s only right I return it to its original course,” I added, hoping to sway her decision in my favor.

“Let me text my friend,” she said, plucking out her phone from a purse I never noticed. “What’s your name?” she blinked at me, mid-typing.

“Mikhail, Mikhail Ivanov,” I replied, a small smile playing on my lips. I was going to have the best night.

“Alright Mikhail, take me to your museum, and God help you if there’s no art there, I’ll have you arrested.”

I let out a small laugh, helping her off the stool. “There will be enough art for you to explore.”

***

“Woah,” she exclaimed as she walked into my Manhattan penthouse.

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