Page 24 of Paid for By the Bratva

Handing her the glass when it arrives, I raise mine in a toast. "To a fun and memorable night."

She grins, clinking her glass against mine before taking a delicate, tentative sip.

"Are you feeling any better?" I ask, concern creeping into my voice.

"Actually, yes," she admits, looking around the room with renewed interest. "This is kind of exciting."

“That’s my girl!” I sip on my drink and signal for another round so we don’t have to wait when this one’s over, watching Lara gaze out at the crowd. She's still tense, but there's interest there, too—a sign of a gradual thawing of her resistance.

Over the next half an hour, there's a subtle change in her demeanor—her shoulders relax, and her eyes seem to sparkle with mischief.

"Starting to feel it?" I chuckle, unable to suppress my amusement at her transformation.

"Maybe just a little," she admits, a shy smile playing on her lips. “I swear you’re ordering larges when I said smalls.”

“Or maybe you’re just a lightweight.” I playfully nudge her shoulder.

Lara giggles, her cheeks flushing with such life that I can’t help but think she looks fresh. She leans closer to me, her body language more relaxed than before as she playfully nudges me back. “Or maybe you’re just ordering the cheap stuff!”

“Hey!” I protest in pretend anger. “I’m an Orlov. We don’t do cheap Vodka.”

“And I was born and raised in Russia. Vodka runs through my veins!” she teases back, throwing back her head and downing her head. She puts the glass down and sways on her seat. I catch her just as she threatens to fall over.

“Whooops,” she sings, laughing until tears fall down her cheeks as my concerned face looms over her. “That was…”

“Embarrassing, I’m sure,” I burst out into laughter, too, amused by her antics despite the slight panic that shoots through me. I hold onto her, ensuring she doesn’t slip off the couch as she tries to regain her balance.

“Guess we should slow down on the drinks,” I suggest, trying to keep my tone light even as I feel a warmth spreading through me at her carefree laughter.

Lara nods, still giggling, and then suddenly, she stands up, swaying a bit on her feet. “I want to dance!” she exclaims.

With a sudden burst of confidence, she shrugs off her sweatshirt in the warmth of the club, revealing a scrap of white fabric that barely covers her midriff. I go still. My eyes can't help but linger on her toned midriff, the curve of her hips, and the way her jeans hug her legs. It's both infuriating and exhilarating to know that other men might be watching her, but she's mine.

Lara glances up and blinks at me, confused. "What is it?"

I swallow hard, tamping down the urge to throw a coat over her and hide her from view.

"Wow, you look…" The words catch in my throat, and I clear it before continuing. "You look like you belong here, Lara."

“Mm-hmm,” she shakes her head, her black hair flowing behind her from the fans set up all around. She grabs my hand and tugs me toward the dance area.

Once on the floor, my eyes are glued to her hips as they sway to the pounding beat. She spins to face me, a wicked grin on her lips, and starts to move.

Mesmerized, I watch as she rolls her body, utterly unselfconscious. Her hands glide up to frame her face, hips twisting and grinding to the music. She's putting on a show for me, and heat pools in my gut at the thought.

When she slides closer, looping her arms around my neck, I snap. My hands clamp down on her waist, guiding her movements, our bodies moving as one. She gasps, eyes darkening with desire as she presses against me.

The song changes, the beat slowing, and we sway together, the tension simmering between us. I bend my head to murmur in her ear, my lips brushing the delicate shell. "Keep dancing like that, and I wouldn’t want to call it a night."

Lara shivers, her fingers tightening on my shoulders. She lifts her chin, a flush staining her cheeks as she meets my gaze.

I, on the other hand, can’t believe I just said that. She’s utterly maddening—this woman. She makes me do, think, and say things I never would in similar circumstances had it been anyone else.

As we sway and spin to the rhythm, our bodies brushing against each other, I can feel the heat between us intensifying. Every touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins, igniting a hunger that threatens to consume me. I can tell Lara feels it, too—the way her breath catches when I pull her close, the way her gaze lingers on my lips.

"Are you alright?" I ask, concern lacing my voice as I notice her cheeks flush a deep shade of red.

"Y-yeah," she stammers, clearly affected by our proximity. "Just…a bit tired."

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