Page 3 of Frequency of Attraction

Elian handed him an Estrella. “Cheers, mate!”

Vadim clinked the neck of the beer bottle against Elian’s. “Congratulations, brother.”

“You watch the game?”

He shook his head. If he wasn’t in the plane, he was in the airport, where, worldwide, it seemed that news was the only available form of entertainment. “Make any good moves?”

Elian’s grin was answer enough. Vadim grinned back. His friend had worked hard to earn a spot on the team. He had to work hard every day to keep it. Vadim’s own grind, his own dream, hadn’t worked out as well, but he didn’t begrudge the young player his moment.

“What’s next for you, my friend?” Even after years in France for college and Spain for work, Vadim had never lost the hard Russian edge to his voice. He heard his gruffness in every language he used.

The Castilian shrugged. “I finish this beer and many more. Lose the night on the dance floor, hopefully leave with some company, get no sleep, then crush Valencia next week.”

Vadim chuckled. “Let me help you with that first one.”

He inched his way to the bar, using his bulk to his advantage. He was too big to get a good buzz from beer, and he wanted a good buzz. Despite the happiness for his friend and his team, Vadim felt weighed down. Maybe it had been the spectacular stars in the clear night sky. He should be up there, way up there, weightless in space. Being a cosmonaut was what he’d always wanted, what he’d tried so fucking hard for years to achieve and hadn’t accomplished.

Chen had done it. His college roommate had not only been chosen for China’s last space mission but was now working for a space tourism company in America. OrbitAll had snatched him up when the Chinese let him go. The lucky bastard got to fly rich people to space and back for kicks.

He shoved those thoughts aside as he settled at the bar. Vadim didn’t even have to open his mouth to get the bartender’s attention. The tall brunette’s eyes met his, held, then dropped. His smirk grew as her gaze followed the ink on his fingertips, up his muscular arm to the patterns on his neck, then landed on his lips. Her own parted.

“What can I get for you?” she asked in English, meeting his eyes again finally. Hers blasted out desire like a radio signal.

Vadim couldn’t help but play with her. “For now? An Estrella and a vodka tonic. Make it strong. Later? That’s still negotiable.”

A catlike grin lifted one side of her luscious mouth. “How strong?”

“Really strong. I want to feel something.”

“Ah.Si. I can definitely help you feel something.” Her coy tone matched his own.

He fought a snicker as she left to make his drink. He leaned against the bar and watched the crowd, drinking in the energy, until his vibrating phone pulled away his attention.

Speaking of Chen, the devil, his old friend on the other side of the world. He read the text quickly, his heart skipping a beat or two, the pretty bartender and everything else forgotten.

Get your ass on a plane. I’ve got the opportunity of a lifetime for you here at OrbitAll.

3

Quinn tore her eyes away from her laptop screen, fingers not faltering as they flew over the keys. Her Pavlovian response to a notification sound from her phone was a surge of nerves in her belly, a quick grip of fear. It had been years since she’d felt a thrill that her family or their brands had been mentioned online. No, the Geier Group had dominated the luxury goods industry for one hundred years now. They were firmly established. She had learned very early in her role as head of public relations that, more often than not, a mention meant a mess.

She dropped her gaze to the phone sitting faceup on her desk and scanned the notification bubble. A growl formed in her throat as she swiped open her phone and began to read.

Merde.

Hadrian. Her troublemaking cousin had tangled with a Belgian royal. A married one. The woman’s husband had caught them and gone straight for the ancient weaponry in that particular palatial room. Wonderful.

If she had a nickel for every time her cousins landed on the cover of a French gossip magazine, Quinn could buy a fucking Lamborghini. Not that she would, because they were pretentious and her little Lexus got really good gas mileage.

She quickly composed a text.Must you with the married women, couillon?Fool.

Hadrian’s reply was immediate.When they are as beautiful and bendy as this one, I must.

Quinn rolled her eyes so hard they nearly got stuck.You know, my job would be a hell of a lot easier if her husband had actually run you through with a sword.

Dear cousin, you know you’d miss me terribly.

After Tate, Hadrian was her favorite family member. Matt, Tate’s brother, came in third. Her own brother didn’t even register. Still, Quinn had to try. She would beg, cajole, and threaten as necessary to keep their family—and business—reputations intact. Truthfully, the effort was getting old. Hadrian especially never learned.

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