Page 61 of Red Fury
19
Fury
“So, tell me, Damien,” Bella starts to say, leaning in until her breast presses against my arm, “what do you do for fun…when you’re not looking so handsome, that is?”
I take another sip of champagne, trying to focus on her words instead of scanning the VIP area for any sign of Kozlov. This conversation has been going in circles for the past ten minutes, and I’m starting to understand why humans invented small talk – it’s torture disguised as politeness.
“I work out a lot,” I say, giving the same answer I gave Thompson previously. “I like to keep in shape.”
She giggles, the sound high and artificial. “I bet you do.” Her hand slides down to rest on my bicep, squeezing. “Mmmmmmm, you certainly feel like you keep in shape, big boy.”
Is this what passes for flirting among humans? The constant touching, the stupid questions about nothing, the eyelash batting that’s becoming so frequent I’m starting to worry she has something in her eye.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks, tilting her head and giving me what I assume is supposed to be a sultry look.
“It’s complicated,” I mutter, which is the understatement of the fucking century.
“Complicated can be fun,” she says with another giggle, her fingers now tracing patterns on my chest through my shirt. “I like complicated men. They’re more…interesting.”
She giggles again.
How do I make her stop?
I’m about to excuse myself to use the restroom when movement catches my eye across the VIP section. A familiar figure walks from the private elevator, and my entire body goes tense.
Kozlov.
Finally.
He’s got someone with him. I lean over, trying to get a better look. It’s a woman, based on the flash of long legs and stilettos I just manage to see past Kozlov. I think she’s tall, but Kozlov’s massive frame blocks my view of everything except those legs and her shoes.
Something prickles inside me, but I can’t quite get a handle on it.
“Are you even listening to me?” Bella’s voice cuts through my thoughts, a note of irritation apparent.
I drag my attention back to her, noting the slight pout on her glossy lips. “Sorry, what were you saying, Bella?”
She brightens immediately, apparently willing to forgive my momentary lapse. “I was asking if you wanted to dance.” She stands and tugs on my arm with both hands, her grip surprisingly strong. “Come on, the music is perfect, and I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” She winks at me.
I highly doubt it.
I glance toward Webb, catching his eye. “Kozlov’s here,” I tell him, leaning forward. “Just arrived. He’s got someone with him.”
Webb straightens in his chair, his gaze immediately searching the VIP area. “Where?”
“He disappeared around the corner, but I’m sure he knows we’re here.”
“Good,” Webb says, visibly relaxing. “About time.”
I want to follow Kozlov and get to business, but that would be rude. The male invited us here as his guests; the polite thing to do is wait for him to approach us when he’s ready.
Even if the waiting is killing me.
If he makes me wait too long, I will take things into my own hands.
“So?” Bella says, still tugging on my arm. “Dance? Please? I promise you’ll love it.” She does this little bounce on her heels.
“I appreciate the offer,” I say, gently but firmly extracting my arm from her grip, “but I can’t right now. I have a meeting shortly. I need to be available. And honestly,” I smile at her, trying hard to be nice, “I’m not much of a dancer.”
