Page 12 of Savage Reign

What does that even mean, chemistry? I’m not sure myself.

Liar.

Nikolai’s brutal but handsome face flashes in my mind. My friends don’t know about that part of my life—the kidnapping, the nearly forced marriage, and how the man who saved me is just as dangerous as the monsters he protected me from.

But somehow, he still plays a starring role in my fantasies.

Alex smirks, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Last names are overrated.”

Daria balls up her napkin and drops it on her empty plate. “Sex isn’t always about love and romance. Sometimes, it’s about getting a hardcore f?—”

I clear my throat. Sam’s attention is on me, and a blush stains my cheeks. Not that I have any reason to feel embarrassed—my sex life, or lack thereof, is none of his business. But considering it’s his job to keep me safe, bringing a stranger back to my apartment for the night would probably be out of the question.

I meet his gaze with a broad smile that he doesn’t return. Instead, he shifts his focus back to the diner’s front door.

“And that’s why he’s not invited,” Alex says with an evil grin.

CHAPTER

FOUR

NIKOLAI

Families swarm the theater lobby,buzzing with excitement, ready to watch their loved ones take the stage for the last time as students.

Vadim and I blend in surprisingly well, camouflaged among the proud parents. We’ve swapped our Brioni suits and Patek Philippe watches for merino wool sweaters and brown loafers—shoes I plan to burn at the first possible opportunity.

Our tattoos are covered with makeup, and I’m wearing black wire-rimmed glasses to round out the history teacher look. Long ago, I ditched the eyebrow ring and the shaved head I sported right after prison. To be taken seriously, I had to look the part of pakhan.

Vadim has an enormous bouquet of white roses in his arms, like some doting father ready to surprise his kid after the performance.

“I feel like a fucking chump,” I mutter under my breath. “How did you talk me into dressing like a?—”

“Normal person?” Vadim interrupts. “I should take a picture to commemorate this moment. You look civilized for once.”

“I could say the same to you.”

With his tattooed knuckles concealed and his unruly dark curls slicked back, Vadim looks less like a man who could kill with his bare hands and more like someone ready for an afternoon on the golf course, which is exactly the point.

“Take a look at this,” he says, sliding a program into my hands as we linger off to the side, watching the crowd.

I take the program and flip through it until I find her name. Sofiya Ivanova. She’s scheduled to dance the final performance of the evening—a solo that she choreographed.

A Hades and Persephone retelling.

I bite back a laugh. If I remember my Greek myths right, Hades, the god of the Underworld, sees Persephone picking flowers one day, and he’s so captivated by her beauty that he takes her by force to the underworld and eventually forces her to marry him.

Well, shit. The irony is almost too much.

Vadim grabs a champagne flute from a passing waiter. “Looks like there are a few undercover guys. That one by the exit—” he angles his head in the man’s direction, “—and another by the staircase.”

I glance over, following his line of sight. Their suits may help them blend in, but the way they stand—feet slightly apart, hands clasped in front, scanning the room—gives them away. It’s a stance I’ve seen countless times in my own men.

Considering this is a public event, I’m not surprised. Still, I’m a patient man, and if I’ve learned one thing over the years, it’s to bide my time and wait for the right moment to strike.

A dramatic kidnapping would alert Roman and his men. We want to get her out of Moscow as quietly as possible. No one will realize she’s gone until it’s too late.

The auditorium lights flicker, signaling that the show will start soon. I join the crowd, filing into their seats, while Vadim disappears backstage to scope things out. Even though he’s striking, he’s very adept at blending in when he needs to be.

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