Page 6 of Sinful Betrayal

“No, nothing like that.” Nina chuckles. “They’re just some friends from the IOD.”

“That sounds like either a cult or some sort of war device. Maybe a war device used by a cult.”

Nina throws her head back and laughs, exposing her long neck to me that’s practically begging to be explored with my tongue.

“It’s the Institute of Dance. We call it IOD for short.”

“I’m sure that’s exactly what people in a cult would say.”

“To be honest, from the amount of time we spend there, it may as well be.”

“It mustn’t leave much time for socializing.”

“Not really, and when we do, we tend to just hang out with other dancers.” She dips her chin in the direction of her friends. “We’re on a pretty intense schedule, not just with dance but in every area of our lives, and it’s hard to find people outside of our world who truly understand.”

Sounds a lot like being part of my life.

“So, what do you do?” Nina delicately sips from her straw.

Every move she makes is so precise, so elegant.

I can only imagine what she looks like when she actually dances.

I shrug as I reach for my glass.

“I have many ventures. Trust me, what I do is a lot less impressive.”

“Oh, I don’t know, you seem to be doing very well for yourself.”

“Perhaps, but don’t let this fool you. I didn’t build what I have on my own. I work for my family’s business, so I really can’t take much of the credit.”

Nina is silent for a moment, her blue eyes watching me closely.

“You’re very modest.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I didn’t think you big New York bro types had a modest bone in your body.”

“Ah, I didn’t realize we were stereotyping here.” I chuckle.

“You’re saying you haven’t already put me into a box?” She sets down her empty glass, leaning forward, giving me a perfect view of the dip between her breasts.

“You’re one of a kind, Nina Balakin. You could never be put into a box.”

She blinks, her rosebud mouth opening and closing as she fights for words.

I can’t help but feel smug that I’ve made her speechless.

“Would you like another?” I glance at her empty glass.

“Please.” She runs her fingers through her long hair.

I wave to the waitress, reaching into my pocket and pulling out another hundred-dollar bill and tucking it into her apron. “Keep them coming.”

I flash Nina a wink.

She looks subtly impressed as the waitress scurries away.

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