Page 16 of Sinful Games

Freaking bastard.

I glared up at him.

Before I could come up with a retort worse than death, the chaos around us exploded. Just a few tables away, men started yelling, one accusing the other of cheating. Their voices rose, fistsslammed on the table, and the sound of shattering glass filled the air. A few women began crying—probably more out of shock than actual concern—and the tension in the room thickened.

The nausea that had been bubbling in my stomach all night finally caught up to me. Drunk, dizzy, and now nauseous, I turned abruptly, pushing through the crowd with one goal in mind: the exit.

Romaniev’s presence became a blur behind me as I tossed my way to the door, not stopping until I burst outside into the biting cold of the December night. The snow felt like tiny blades against my skin, cutting through the warmth of my silk dress, but at least it was better than the suffocating heat inside.

I took in a breath of the freezing air, hoping it would stop the room from spinning.

“Your Papa sent you here?”

I closed my eyes, massaging my temples, praying he’d take the hint and go back to being an asshole somewhere far, far away. Maybe find another girl who actually liked the attention. But no, Romaniev was persistent.

“I wonder why he’d send you to one of our casinosalone,” he continued, the sound of a lighter flicking followed by the faint smell of cigarette smoke. The sharp scent invaded my nose, adding to my growing nausea.

I let out a bitter scoff. “Wake up, Romaniev. It’s 2020. Women can actually function without some sweaty, testosterone-dripping moron lurking around, asking stupid questions and acting like they’re in charge.”

I waved down a taxi a few meters ahead, signaling to the driver. The car engine sputtered to life, and it slowly slid through the snow toward me, the tires cautiously gripping the icy road.

Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself, cursing my decision to leave my coat at home. I’d promised myself I’d only stay an hour—just enough to make an appearance and leave unnoticed—but now, with the cold biting through my thin dress, I regretted that choice deeply.

Romaniev took a drag of his cigarette, his eyes never leaving me. “You sure look like you’ve got it all under control, freezing your ass off out here.”

I flipped him off without even looking up and then dug through my bag until I finally found my phone buried at the bottom. No messages from Valeria.Thank God.

With a relief sigh, I slipped my phone back into my clutch, snapping it shut with more force than necessary.

“Where’s Mankiev?” Romaniev’s voice cut through my thoughts.

I rolled my eyes, barely holding on to what little patience I had left. “Why? Worried he’s going to show up and knock you off that pedestal of yours?”

He smirked, flicking his cigarette to the side. “Just curious how much your Papa knows about you slumming it in places like this. You always this desperate for attention, or is tonight special?”

The taxi pulled up, and I stepped toward it, my hand on the door handle. “I’d say tonight’s special because I’ve had the misfortune of talking to you,” I shot back.

Romaniev flicked his cigarette to the ground, his gaze still locked on me, half-lidded and unreadable. For a second, I thought I saw a flicker of something—amusement maybe, or curiosity—but I wasn’t about to stick around and figure it out. Before he could toss another insult my way, I opened the car door and slid inside, slamming it shut behind me.

Just as I was putting on my seatbelt, Romaniev tapped onthe window, and to my dismay, the driver rolled it down.Of course.

He leaned in, his eyes catching mine like a predator sizing up its prey. “Good night, Caia. Try not to miss me too much,” he said with a wink.

I gave him a fake smile and reached into my clutch.

Grabbing a poker coin, I leaned out the window, slipping it into his suit pocket with a light pat on his chest. “A little token of appreciation. I figured even Igor’s loyal dog deserves a treat now and then—especially after all the dirty work you do fetching his slippers and licking his boots.”

Before he could fire back, I leaned back into the cab, told the driver to go, and we pulled away, leaving Romaniev standing there. His silent rage seemed to simmer in the air, warming the car from miles away.

Chapter

Six

“Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.”

?Mae West

Caia

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