Page 37 of The Dancer and the Grumpy Billionaire

We go back and forth all the way to the club, and the conversation only serves to depress me. I am not sure if what Vasily and I had was love, but it was close. It was getting there, I think. Seeing him tonight only served to remind me that what we had is still there. I know he still feels something for me, and it angers me that he will not step away from his carefully curated life to be with me.

Perhaps that is an immature viewpoint. Perhaps my desire to choose love above all else is just the impractical, romantic notion of a woman nearly nine years his junior. And perhaps that gap is fueling much of his reticence about finding a way forward. I think on this all the way to our destination.

Alexei parks and takes us to the entrance of a nightclub. There are probably fifty people standing in a queue outside, waiting to get in. My bodyguard takes us past the line, though, and says a few words to the bouncer, who nods and unhooks the red velvet rope to let us in.

“We have a booth in the upper-level VIP section,” Alexei says in his heavily accented English. “It will be home base.”

I am skeptical that he will really leave us to our own devices here, but he wanders off quickly to the bar, ordering a drink and speaking in Russian to several men, all of whom with which he seems well acquainted. Once they begin conversing, he does not look back at us.

“Should we get a drink?” I ask.

She nods. “Just one, though. We’re both hot. We need one to get loose, then boys will buy them for the rest of the night.”

Perplexed, I follow her lead. We each do a shot and then head out to the dance floor, where hundreds of bodies writhe to dance music.

I watch as Isabelle moves her body, trying to figure out how to move my own in a way that is not structured or choreographed.

“God, are you a robot?” Isabelle yells over the music. She puts her hands on my hips and tells me to move along with her. “Just feel the music and the beat. Don’t over think it.”

I start to move and after some time, she removes her hands and backs away, giving me two thumbs up. Closing my eyes, I sway, imagining Vasily in front of me, Vasily moving with me. I have no idea if he knows how to dance like this. This club doesn’t seem like his type of place.

When a tall, muscular Russian man steps in front of me, I allow it. I should not keep pining for a man who has not chosen me. I should try to move on, to have some fun. This is a rare opportunity to be out with a friend like this. Alexei is being oddly agreeable tonight – I should take advantage of it.

The man introduces himself as Lev. He is not unpleasant to look at, with a nose that has been broken once or twice in his life, a pair of deep, brown eyes, and a bit of chin stubble. He is pumped up and muscly like Roman and Alexei, which is off-putting to me. Still, he moves okay and as the crowd increases, we are forced close together.

Lev puts a hand on my hip and mirrors my movements side to side. He looks down at me with a ravenous look that makes me uncomfortable. I look around, anywhere but at his face, just to avoid eye contact. I am just dancing, but I think he wants more.

When his hand moves to my lower back and he pulls me closer, I involuntarily flinch back. Thankfully, this is a moment when Alexei’s intervention is actually helpful. He is there suddenly and seemingly from out of nowhere.

“Ruki proch’ ot general’skoy docheri,” he says clearly, even in the loud environment.

“Hands off the General’s daughter.”

The man’s eyebrows knot together, and he asks simply, “Gusev?”

Alexei nods, buff arms folded over his burly chest.

Lev backs away slightly, hands up in innocence. “My prosto nemnogo poveselilis’.”

“We were just having a little fun.”

Alexei jerks his head toward the entrance, a clear message. The man sighs and walks away, that easy. What power my father’s name has. I had no real idea that it stretched so far, to the dance floor of some random club in DC.

Job done, Alexei says he is headed back to the bar and to come get him if I need him. I nod and look around for Isabelle. I spot her further into the center of the writhing crowd. She has got her arms thrown over the shoulders of a man as they grind on each other. She smiles wickedly, a drink dangling from one of her hands.

I make my way to her side and tell her I need a break. She agrees and all three of us go back to the booth. A waitress comes and takes our drink orders, after which Isabelle and the man start making out. It is awkward, to say the least, so I look at my phone to avoid watching them.

Vasily is still on my mind. I want so badly to be with him right now. I want to see him. My fingers move across the keyboard before I can even stop myself.

Gigi: Seeing you tonight was hard

Gigi: I am heartbroken for you

Gigi: I miss you

Three dots appear almost immediately, almost as if he was waiting for me to communicate. When a response doesn’t come quickly, though, I send another text, asking him to come to the club, to be with me here.

I wait, watching the three dots, hoping he says yes.

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