Page 38 of Wrath
Misha walked deeper into the dark club, hugging her bag to her chest. Dimitri now had an army of soldiers in masks ready to do his dirty bidding. It was obvious even Yuri felt uncomfortable about doing things he never thought he’d do—like assaulting hislapochka.
For the staff of The Kremlin, Misha’s beating and restaurant destruction had served as a warning. If Dimitri could do that to his one and only friend, then he would do that to anyone. Debtors fearfully fell in line, and Dimitri’s influence was growing. All Misha could do was to try to find a positive in the negative, just like her aunt had taught her.
Following that piece of advice was getting harder every day.
When she made it to the dressing room, she rested her palm on the closed door and took a deep breath. Unsure what or who she would find inside today, she hesitated. A few nights ago, Chyna had gone missing. She’d been requested for a private party and never returned. Every night since, Misha prayed she would be in there, applying her cat’s eye makeup, teasing her hair with an afro comb. She pressed open the door.
“Namaste, ladies.” Misha forced a bright smile on her face as she waltzed in.
The room smelled like soured perfume, spilled alcohol and stale smoke. That lump in Misha’s throat expanded. No Chyna.
Anastasia and the Russian twins, Katarina and Dominika were silently applying their costumes. A new skinny girl dabbed blue eyeliner onto the bottom rim of her red, sunken eyelid. When her eyes rolled back, she blinked purposefully in an attempt to focus and gain her wits.Junkie. The track marks on the insides of her elbow confirmed. How sad.
“No word on Chyna?” she asked quietly, shoving her bag into her locker.
With cameras and microphones in the room, none of the girls answered, but Anastasia gave a crisp shake of the head. Before she shut the door on her locker, Misha closed her eyes and centered herself.
I have two arms, two legs. I’m healthy. My family is healthy. My family is safe. Inhale the future, exhale the past.
Then she shut the metal door with a loud clang.
“Right, then darlings. Who am I today?” She clapped her hands together. No word from Dimitri meant she got to pick her costume, and that was a positive.
Katarina, the twin with the mole over her lip, turned to Misha and sighed. “I am in no mood for games today.”
“Now, now, darling. That’s no way to speak. We have a job to do, and a show to put on. Come on. Who am I?”
“You are the Duchess, no?”
“Ding ding ding. Two points to the better looking twin.” Misha clapped, laughing. A reluctant smile twitched on Katarina’s lips.
Dominika rolled her eyes. “We all know who is better looking because I get more tips.”
Then they went round-robin and tried to guess who each girl was going to be. They were subdued, and down, but they liked this game. It was the only way Misha could get them all amped and ready to go out. It hadn’t always been like this. Hell, sometimes dancing was fun, and Misha got to keep all of her tips, but lately, it was like working at a funeral parlor.
She spent the next few minutes shimmying into her outfit. A black string bikini with a dental floss thong. A tiny peach colored skirt and matching jacket that barely contained her breasts. She wore a string of pearls around her throat, and black high-heeled pumps. At the last minute, she applied a feather fascinator to her chignon, rounding out the tarty English Duchess look.
Five minutes later, the thump of music vibrated through the walls. The club was open. More women crowded into the room. A few waitresses and dancers Misha had never met before.
As Misha finished her makeup, a knock at the door made everyone still.
The only people who knocked were the men.
Followed by two muscly guards, Dimitri gave the girls a once over. “You are all ready for tonight,da?”
Nods all around the room.
Then Dimitri’s eyes landed on Misha and her blood froze.
“Everybody, out.” He gave a negligent flick of his fingers toward the door.
Scrambling like ants, the room emptied. She watched helplessly as the bouncer shut the door, leaving Misha alone with Dimitri.
But she wouldn’t be cowered. Like a proper duchess, Misha folded her hands and rested them on her lap. She held her chin high.
Dimitri adjusted the gold cufflinks on his maroon pin-striped suit. He cut a dashing figure. Dark, slim. Eyes like a shark. He inhaled deeply and sighed. “It pleases me to see you have followed orders.”
“I really have no choice, darling.”
