Page 6 of Cruel Bratva King

Chapter 3 - Lilianna

“I’m sorry, have we met before?” I knew we hadn’t. There was no way I’d meet with a man who looked this good and wouldn’t remember, but asking him a question, no matter how foolish it sounded, was the only way I’d feel less embarrassed.

He flashed a smile at me before taking the stool next to me. “I don’t think we have.”

The whole club smelt like alcohol and sweat, yet I could detect the scent of rich perfume, cinnamon, and cigarettes coming from him. He smelled so good I wanted to hug him tight and sniff him.

My eyes traveled to his broad shoulders and then to his stomach, carefully hidden away in his suit. This man looked like he went to the gym at least six times a week. I couldn’t help but imagine what he looked like underneath his clothes. Most likely firm skin and muscles.

God, what was I thinking?Stop, Lilianna. Stop.

The bartender finished with our drinks and pushed them to us. I smiled at him. “Thank you.”

His lips twitched as if he wanted to smile back at me, but he took one glance at the man sitting beside me and nodded instead before leaving to tend to other customers.

“Is this your first time here?” he asked, circling the tip of his glass.

“Yeah.” I took a sip of my drink and winced as it traveled down my throat. “You?”

“Not my first time, but I’m not a regular either.” He smiled at me again, and my heart throbbed. “You don’t look like you can hold your liquor.”

How could he tell?“I have a weak tolerance for alcohol, but I handle a few glasses.”

“Hmm.” He drank half the glass of his martini. “What’s your name?”

“Lilianna, but my best friend calls me Lily,” I answered, amused by how well he drank. He didn’t wince or give any hint that he found the drink unpleasant. “What’s yours?”

His answer was a half-smile that went away as quickly as it came. “Lily, like the flower?”

I smiled at him. “Like the flower.”

“Tsvetok,” he muttered under his breath. “Moy tsvetok.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. I didn’t understand Russian, but I’d been around a few of them to know when it was spoken.

Instead of a reply, he tilted his head to the dancefloor. “Is she your best friend?”

“She is,” I replied, not minding that he hadn’t told me his name or answered my question. My mystery man exuded authority and dominance. He didn’t seem the type to answer to anyone unless he wanted to. “She’s always the life of the party,” I responded. I was always the reserved one, and my shitty day only made it worse. For some reason, I’d almost forgotten how terribly my day was just by talking to him.

There was something about this guy, something about his aura that captured all my attention, leaving me incapable of thinking of anything else.

He was just what I needed tonight.

“I see.” He tilted his head back to me. “And you, what are you?”

My lips quirked into a smile. “I don’t know. What do you think I am?”

He narrowed his eyes on me. “You’re the shy, reserved girl who’d rather observe than get involved. And I can tell you’re distressed about something.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Only if you’re observant.”

I was impressed at how observant he was. I felt like he could see right through me if he looked into my eyes long enough. I wasn’t the kind of person who was easily comfortable with strangers, but with him, I didn’t just feel comfortable; I felt safe.”

He opens his hand to me. “Would you like a dance with me?”

I stared at his hand for a minute, wanting to take it but hesitant at how odd it was that I felt so comfortable around this stranger—this man who wouldn’t even tell me his name. I took his hand anyway, and he led me to the dancefloor.

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