Page 37 of Bratva King's Secret Twins

I knock on the door with a shaky hand, my heart pounding in my chest. A rough, commanding voice booms from inside, ordering me to enter.

"What's your business?" he barks, wasting no time on small talk.

"I'm here for the dancer's job." I lean on my right hip and present my resume from my bag.

The man's piercing gaze sweeps over me, lingering on my curves and less-than-perfect figure. "You don't exactly look like a dancer," he says bluntly, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Normally, I would tell him he doesn't look like much of a man, but I really need this job, so I close my mouth.

My teeth grind together as I try to force a smile, pushing my resume onto his cluttered desk. "I am sure the men that frequent this place all have different tastes in ladies, and I have experience dancing in two jobs, and despite my lack of visible muscle, I know my way around a pole, and I am really bendy, I promise."

His gaze narrows on me, a sharp edge of dismissal on the tip of his tongue, but the phone on his desk rings before he can respond. He hesitates for a moment, his eyes still locked onto mine, before finally reaching for the receiver with an exasperated sigh.

The low murmur of voices filters through the line as he answers with a curt: "Boss?"

The man's face contorts in annoyance, his eyebrows furrowing and lips tightly pressing together. But then, as if a light switch has been flipped, his expression shifts to one of surprise.

"Actually, there is a young woman here inquiring about a job," he finally admits with a nod. In the blink of an eye, he snatches up my resume from the desk and scans it quickly, muttering, "Her name is Gwendolyn." He nods a string of yeses and nos under his breath. With a skeptical look in his eye, he looks back at me and lets out a heavy sigh. "Alright, sir," he concedes reluctantly.

"You must have friends in high places. The boss wants you to start tonight.”

"Or your boss must have more taste in ladies that look more like me?" I smirk, placing a hand on his desk as I lean over.

The guy gives me a once-over again and snorts. "I doubt it. Be here at seven pm sharp. Tell Hudson your size on the way out."

"Oh my god!" I squeal. "Thank you. You won't regret this."

The manager sighs, muttering, "I already do."

17

NIKOLAI

It’s her. My Gwen, at my bar, looking to be a dancer when she truly looks like a goddess who has descended from the heavens. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest because the minute Oscar said Gwendolyn, I knew it was her. Shit, I knew it was her when I saw her outside, but this time I had to make sure.

And now it is taking every inch of my willpower not to run down those stairs and grab her, hold her close, and inhale the sweet vanilla scent that I remember that lingers in her hair.

My eyes don’t leave her body as I watch her on the security cameras in my office. She looks fucking delectable. Her wild black curls cascade down her back in perfect spirals, begging me to run my fingers through them. Her pink lips, full and plump, taunt me with their smirk, reminding me of all the times they’ve wrapped around my length and made me bust without savoring the velvet feel of her tongue.

But then my gaze falls on her ass, round and full, practically begging to be squeezed and spanked. Her thighs still have asinful level of thickness that makes her jeans damn near look painted on.

And I realize that Hudson must have had a better view of it than I did from up here. The surge of anger that courses through me is almost suffocating as he laughs at something she says and his eyes linger on her curves.

How dare he even look at my girl? I should skin him alive. I never liked his face anyway; maybe I could rearrange it for him. That would help the anger coursing through my veins, or maybe a more fitting punishment for the stupid kid is for me to gouge out his eyes. That way, he can never look at her again.

I hear the low wolf whistle as Gwen does a little dance before leaving, happy that she got the job. A blush creeps up Gwen’s neck, and I snarl.Fuck. Maybe I should cut out his tongue as well.

Hudson calls after her, “Don’t be late, girly! I’ll be waiting.”

A low growl escapes my throat as I watch Gwen leave, Hudson’s admiring gaze fixed on her form. She may have gotten the job at the bar, but she’s mine.

My fists clench so tightly that my knuckles turn white, and I imagine smashing them into Hudson’s smug face. But I know better than to let my emotions control me. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself before grabbing the keys to my Escalade and storming out of the building.

My security team is hot on my heels, but I shake them off with a stubborn shake of my head, as I trail behind her. She walks down the street and slides her headphones in her ears.

I watch her walk down the crowded street, my muscles tense and my heart racing. My gaze follows her every step, scanning for any potential threats, or if she will do that disappearing actwhere one moment she is nuzzling my neck and the next she disappears for the next five years. She can’t do that to me again.

I flex my fingers, trying to loosen the urge to throw her over my shoulder caveman style, make her know she is mine again. The thought of any other person having what I did makes my skin scorch and my joints tight with the need to pummel said person into the ground.

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