Page 7 of Sinful Betrayal

“I didn’t think they allowed table service here?”

“They don’t, but I’m the owner. And besides, I always get what I want.”

3

NINA

Of course,Anton Koslov ownsEspionage. How fucking ironic.

I sit back in my seat, crossing my leg over my knee as the waitress sets down fresh drinks in front of us. I can’t help but notice the way she completely blanks me. But then again, I’m not the one stuffing hundred-dollar bills into her apron.

If I were her, I would ignore me too.

“How come you’re here drinking tonight?” I take a sip of my ice-cold vodka and tonic.

“I just want to let go of my life for a little while.” Anton swirls the amber liquid around in his glass. His brows pull together in a frown, and he seems to lose himself in his thoughts for a moment.

I take the opportunity to glance over my shoulder at my friends, flashing them a smile to let them know that they don’t need to come and save me.

From the countless empty glasses on the table, they seem to be making full use of Anton’s offer, which I’m sure they will come to regret when we’re taking our fundamentals exam at nine a.m. tomorrow. Something that I will gladly remind them of later.

“I understand that.” I sigh. “That's why I dance.”

“Really?” Anton leans a little closer, his knees almost touching mine.

I keep my posture relaxed and my smile flirty to mask the fact that I’m analyzing every little thing he does.

He might think he can woo me with his wealth and charm, but I grew up being surrounded by men like him. It takes a lot more than a few well-placed compliments to impress me.

Lucky for him, I’m sitting exactly where I need to be. Though to be truthful, if I had no idea the sort of man he is, I’m not sure I could resist spending a night with him.

“Yes.” I set down my drink and place my hands in my lap.

The movement draws Anton’s attention back to my legs, and I make no move to readjust my skirt, which has hitched up my thighs. “I think sometimes we can get caught up in the darkness of it all. Music and dance help to center me, to remind me that life can be like a ballet. It’s all about perspective.”

“Alcohol does the same thing to me.” Anton’s lips twitch at the edges.

I roll my eyes but offer him a smile in return.

“Have you ever been to the ballet, Anton?” I look up at him under my lashes.

“No, I didn’t think it was really my thing. Until today.”

“Is that so?” I chuckle. “I didn’t realize I was that talented.”

“Well, I think I might need a little more convincing before I become a full-fledged groupie.”

I fight a laugh.

“I don’t think ballerinas have groupies.”

“Well, they fucking should.”

It’s a little unnerving how Anton is making me feel like the most special person in the room.

I don’t think I’ve ever been made to feel like that. If anything, I’ve been made to feel the opposite my entire life.

Ever since my mother died, my father has made it his mission to remind me what a waste of space I am because I’m not a son. As if that’s the only way I could be useful to him.

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