Page 7 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

I laugh despite myself, shaking my head. “You watch too many movies.”

“Maybe,” she says, leaning against a nearby table. “Seriously, this place is incredible. You must see some crazy stuff here.”

“Crazy is one word for it,” I admit, thinking again about the man from that night.

Julie doesn’t notice my shift in mood. “Well, if you see anyone important, let me know. I’ll wave and pretend I’m one of the cool kids.”

“Noted.” I glance toward the manager’s office and sigh. “I have to get back to work. It was good seeing you, though.”

Julie pouts but nods. “Okay, fine. Text me later, okay? We need to catch up.”

“Deal.”

As Julie disappears back into the crowd, I take a moment to steady myself. She has no idea what kind of people actually frequent this place, and it’s better that way.

The buzz of my earpiece startles me, and my manager’s voice crackles through. “Hannah, VIP table five. Now.”

“On it,” I reply, turning and heading toward the bar to pick up the next round.

The VIPs tonight seem more demanding than usual, and I can’t shake the feeling that something is in the air. Still, I push through, keeping my smile in place as I serve table after table.

No matter how busy the night gets, I can’t seem to shake the memory of those blue eyes, or the way he made me feel. Real. Alive. For one night, I’d let myself lose control.

The dim glow of the hallway lights flickers as I approach Kris’s office, my pulse quickening with every step. I’ve never liked him. Something about the way he stares a second too long or the way his smiles feel slimy, like they’re hiding something.

When I knock on the door, his voice calls out immediately. “Come in.”

I push the door open to find him sitting behind his desk, a smirk already tugging at the corners of his mouth. The room smells faintly of smoke and cologne, and the air feels heavy, oppressive. Kris leans back in his chair, his blond hair slicked back, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of gold chain.

“Hannah,” he drawls, gesturing for me to step inside. “Close the door.”

I hesitate but do as he says, the soft click of the door shutting making the room feel smaller.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask, keeping my tone professional.

He motions to the chair opposite his desk. “Sit.”

I lower myself into the seat, balancing the tray of empty glasses on my lap. Kris’s eyes sweep over me, and I resist the urge to squirm under his gaze.

“You’ve been doing a good job around here,” he begins, his tone casual. “The VIPs like you. That’s important.”

“Thank you,” I say, wary. Compliments from Kris always come with strings attached.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “You know, you’ve been working here for a while now, but I never pegged you as the… adventurous type.”

I blink, unsure where this is going. “Excuse me?”

Kris’s smirk deepens. “I remember you leaving the club on the arm of a certain gentleman a while back.”

My stomach drops, and my grip on the tray tightens. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I realize what he’s talking about.

“Relax,” Kris says, holding up a hand like he’s doing me a favor. “It’s none of my business what you do in your free time. I’m just curious. Do you even know who you slept with?”

My mouth goes dry. I’d spent weeks trying not to think about that night, and now he’s dragging it back to the surface like it’s some kind of joke.

“No,” I admit, my voice quieter than I’d like. “I don’t.”

Kris chuckles, the sound grating. “Figures. Let me enlighten you, sweetheart. The man you spread your legs for is none other than Makar Sharov.”

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