Page 21 of Beautiful Cruelty

My stomach twists as I look between them. Allison's expression makes one thing clear: stay with Vadim, and lose my job. And as tempting as Vadim is, I can't lose this source of income.

Especially not now.

"Well, Ms. McKinney?" Allison's words carry the weight of an ultimatum.

I meet Vadim's storm-gray eyes, seeing the hunger and the promise of pleasure. But behind that is something else—a flash of possessiveness that makes me shiver.

"I need to get back to work," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Stay." His hand catches mine, thumb brushing over my knuckles. "You don't need to listen to her."

"That's not how this works," I reply, even though everything in me wants to melt back into his arms. "You have the luxury to bend and break the rules whenever you want, and do whatever you want, but not me. I need this job. For a lot of different reasons."

Allison clears her throat pointedly.

Vadim's eyes narrow, but he releases my hand. "We're not finished here,zvyozdochka. Iwillfind you later."

The promise in his voice makes me shiver. I hurry after Allison, feeling Vadim's gaze burning into my back with every step.

For a tantalizing second, I dare imagine myself telling Allison that I don't give a shit about this job and running back into Vadim’s arms.

But then I think about Dad, about the piles of dishes in the kitchen, about Freddy coming by every other day to steal something else, and about the way Nathan looked while he was fucking Caroline.

I can't.

I can't throw away my life just for a single reckless night of passion with Vadim Stravinsky.

No matter how much I want to.

I scrub another plate clean,letting Allison's words wash over me like the scalding water. Something about propriety, about knowing my place, about how lucky I am to still have this job.

"I pay you to serve food and drinks to guests," she hisses. "And that'sallI expect you to do, Ms. McKinney. So you can forget about getting paid for the time you spententertainingMr. Stravinsky."

My hands tighten on the sponge. Every dollar counts, especially with Dad's care and bills piling up, and my engagement to Nathan down the toilet.

Arguing with Allison will only make it worse, so I focus on a particularly stubborn spot of dried sauce.

The prep kitchen is quiet except for the clink of dishes and Allison's endless stream of criticism. Through the walls, I can barely hear the muffled music from the event. Each note twists something in my chest as I remember how it felt to dance in Vadim's arms.

How it felt to kiss him.

How it felt to fantasize about what else we might've done if we hadn't been interrupted.

By the time Allison finally releases me from my duties, the parking lot is empty save for my car and hers. I glance down atmy phone screen as I get in, the sound of rain pitter-pattering against the roof of my car.

No messages, no calls, nothing.

I pull up Vadim's contact info and start typing:I'm sorry about earlier...

No, that sounds too desperate.

Heyyy...

Nope.

I wish...

Ugh! No.

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