Page 14 of The Bratva's Christmas Bump
“Can I stay in the car?” I ask as Maxim opens the door. I could tell him I’m exhausted, that being on edge for so long is draining me, but ultimately, I’m tired of being herded from place to place like a sack.
“No.”
“But—”
“I said no. Come.”
“I’m not a fucking dog,” I snap while dragging myself from the car before he can do it for me. Maxim looks at me like he wants to say something, but he thinks better of it and heads inside the club. I follow with Stu by my side.
We’re immediately swallowed by thin smoke that creates a haze over the entire club. A black corridor with sparkles adorning the walls resembling stars leads us to a single red door, where a thick, tall bouncer stands guard. He grimaces slightly and immediately waves us through.
Inside, the club is filled with shining black stages scattered around the floor below the small entrance balcony we walk onto. I count six at first glance. Each one has a shining silver pole and is highlighted by a personal spotlight shining down with soft, golden light. Beyond the mini stages, a long, large stage hugs the back wall, adorned with thick red curtains held in place above the stage by silver cords.
Silver confetti drifts about the smoky haze covering the room, and those who aren’t in the middle of getting a lap dance or a drink at the bar to the far left are huddled around some commotion in the center of the room. Maxim takes the curved stairs to my left and makes a beeline for the huddle. The crowd parts around him like the sea and as the scuffling men break apart due to a punch, Maxim immediately tackles one of the men to the ground.
I wince as they hit the floor and someone screams in alarm. The two other men groggily climb to their feet. One is dressed in the same red suit as the bouncer we passed at the door and he heads toward the third man who wobbles back and forth, waving what appears to be a rhinestone-covered cane. It matches the outfit of a nearby woman. Her rhinestone-encased bikini glitters in the light, and a miniature top hat is affixed to her curls on top of herhead. The crowd ducks and sways as the man swings the cane, then he brings it down hard on Maxim’s back.
My stomach flips and the man is quickly tackled back to the ground by the second bouncer.
“He’s fine,” comes Stu’s voice. He’s watching, and something about my face must have enticed him to give me that reassurance, so I quickly frown.
“Sure,” I mutter. “I don’t care.”
Remaining on the balcony, I watch as Maxim and the bouncer subdue the two drunken, angry men and drag them through the crowd toward a sleek black door next to the large stage. They vanish through it and the crowd below slowly dissipates. Dancers return to their poles and patrons resume drinking and flashing money at the stages.
“So he owns a strip club?” I look over at Stu, and he winces.
“Harsh way to look at it. Is that what you think this place is?”
“What else would it be?”
Gazing back over the railing, I see that Maxim reappears with the bouncer. The two drunken culprits are nowhere to be seen. Maxim claps the bouncer on the shoulder and for the first time since I saw him in that restaurant, he smiles. In an instant, the intimidating face with the sharp jaw and harsh, narrow eyes melts into something soft and unrecognizable. He’s more like the man I met at the bar all those months ago.
The man I spent so long looking for.
As he passes a stage, the rhinestone-clad woman darts down effortlessly in her six-inch heels and throws her arms aroundMaxim’s neck, planting a bright red kiss on his cheek. “Thank you! Thank you!”
Something cold and sharp rises in my stomach.
Am I… jealous?
No… I can’t be. Can I?
6
MAXIM
Xena presses up against me in a cloud of sweet perfume and glitter and places a brief kiss on my cheek. “I knew you’d come!”
“Didn’t I say I would?” With one arm around her waist to support her after she threw herself at me, I gently lower her to the ground while she pats my cheek.
“It’s Thanksgiving night. No one thought you’d escape dinner with your father to come and sort our problems.”
“Dinner was a bust.”
“Oh, no!” She pouts. “Wanna vent about it? I get off in twenty.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
