Page 84 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

I don’t love the way he says “girl,” but I need to project an attitude of indifference where Esme is concerned.

Though, I’m not sure if that’s more for my sake or everyone else’s.

“I don’t give a fuck,” I answer.

Budimir chuckles. “I would have thought you would, especially after everything I’ve heard about her.”

My eyes snap to his face immediately. “Which is what, exactly?”

Budimir shrugs. “That’s she’s quite the beauty,” he says innocently. “And that she’s got a tight little ass on her, too.”

I grit my teeth and try to pretend like it doesn’t bother me that all my men have obviously been ogling my woman.

That thought stops me in my tracks.

When did I start thinking of Esme asmywoman?

“I think you need to get laid tonight, Uncle,” I say, trying to steer the topic away from Esme.

“You’re right about that,” he nods. “It’s been almost a week since I’ve had new pussy.”

Cillian and I exchange a glance. We’re used to Budimir and his insatiable appetite. But sometimes I wish he traveled in his own circles instead of ours.

The Siren is packed when we arrive, but of course we stride in without a problem.

Glass tables bearing bottles of expensive whiskey beckon under the lights. There’s enough alcohol to kill an army of elephants.

My uncle slaps me on the back and grins. “Whiskey for the whiskey man,” he jokes, steering me towards a bottle. “My treat.”

I give Budimir a grateful nod for arranging the display, but I refrain from telling him that my desire for alcohol has dwindled significantly in the past few days.

The whole entourage moves forward, each group taking a table and helping themselves to a drink.

I stand back, feeling strangely removed from everything and everyone.

“Come on, brother,” Cillian says, coming up next to my shoulder. “Try and enjoy yourself tonight.”

I just nod and take a seat at a booth next to my uncle.

He’s already pouring himself a drink, his eyes trained on the dance floor a few feet below us, where a group of young women are dancing.

His eyes linger on their asses, their breasts. He’s not subtle—but his position in this city means he doesn’t need to be.

I look at the women. It’s easy to see why Budimir is watching them. They’re young, sexy, definitely looking for attention.

But that’s the very reason I turn from them.

Because they aren’ther.

Though I can’t help but notice they are dancing in the same spot where I first noticed Esme.

That image is stuck in my head. Her eyes had been closed, her head tilted back, her hair flowing around her shoulders as though she were in freefall.

She hadn’t been concerned about being noticed, which was exactly what was so fucking beguiling about her.

“See something you like, Artem?” Budimir asks, drawing my attention back to the present.

“Not really.”

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