Adrian and I’d started at our agencies right out of college. As an American, Adrian signed on with the CIA, and my road took me the way of Interpol. We had our reasons for the paths we’d taken. Mine being the need to take down the man who’d let my mother die.
“You could say something like that.”
“I’m glad I could convince you to come check out the new club. The Boss has gone the extra mile with this one.” He gestured toward his right. “Let me take you to a table. I’ll see if the Boss is available to meet you.”
Oh, I was going to meet “the Boss,” all right. I wanted to see how accurate the information I’d gathered was to the public image. She was the ultimate liability, and it was better to view her as a target.
We walked down a dimly lit hallway until we reached a heavy metal door. Justine scanned his thumbprint on a reader and the doors opened, allowing the hip-hop beat of the DJ’s music to explode out.
“What do you think?” Justine asked as we entered the club.
I’d only seen one other place with this type of clean lines and sharp contrasts of light and dark colors. It was one of the clubs in Vegas run by the billionaire Lykaios brothers. The one thing that made this place different was the blatant sexual vibe. There were subtle sculptures tucked around the place depicting intimate yet chaste images of couples. It was a tease to the senses, as if one had entered a kink club instead of a dance club.
“It’s definitely unique. Not something one would expect. But then again, I believe your boss was aiming for this effect on the patrons.”
Justine grinned. “Exactly. The Boss has a way of creating an atmosphere that’s the exact opposite of what’s considered the norm.”
“A rebel in the entertainment world.”
We stopped near a set of couches strategically positioned in view of the dance floor but far enough away to give a small semblance of privacy.
“It’s the only way to stand out in the crowd. Here you go. Make yourself comfortable. Nikita will be here in a few moments to take your order. I’ll go find the Boss and let her know to come over.”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure if Justine realized he’d said “her” when referring to his boss. The owner was known for keeping a low profile, never letting anyone know she was a woman in a business run by men, especially in Germany. The nightclub world was as ruthless as the one I’d grown up in. But then again, “the Boss” was as experienced in the life as I was.
I ordered my drink and watched the patrons of the club. Most were well-to-do, not the typical underground club goers. These people had money. They dressed casually, but the quality and brands of their clothing said enough.
As I took in the decor, I studied the sculptures more closely. They looked more than the average knock-off of an ancient artist's design. One in particular looked exactly like something I’d seen in an auction catalog not so long ago. Either “the Boss” had money to burn or had commissioned a replica that looked identical to the real thing.
The DJ switched the beat of the music to a hip-hop techno rhythm, a sound popular in Europe. The crowd thickened as they tried to find spots to lose themselves in the sounds booming from the carefully hidden speakers.
“Will you need anything else, sir?” Nikita said as she set my drink in front of me.
I shook my head and she left.
That was when I saw her.
This wasn’t the well-dressed and well-behaved princess the pictures had made her look like, or the tomboy in baggy pants that left the shooting range after practicing for hours.
She was breathtaking, seductive, with an aura of innocence that made a man want to protect her.
Fucking gorgeous.
Her gaze landed on me, and my breath caught as if she’d knocked the wind out of me.
I couldn’t believe this was the woman my mother and Opa had picked for me.
Her black hair was loose in large waves, framing eyes so blue that they looked almost artificial. And those lips—they were full, pouty, and gave a man visions of the perfect uses for them. Her fitted dress was conservative enough not to reveal too much but high-fashion enough to look on-trend.
Taking one last swallow of my whiskey, I rose from the couch and moved in her direction.
She watched me take her in, holding my stare. There was a challenge there as well as interest.
When I was a foot away from her, I offered her my hand without saying anything.
After a moment of hesitation, she slid her palm over mine.
The first touch was electric, and my cock immediately responded. Her breath hitched, and heat entered the deep cobalt irises.
Holy fuck. What was happening?
This attraction was nothing like anything I’d experienced before. The caveman side of me wanted to throw her over my shoulder and take her somewhere I could bury myself deep in her and make her call out my name as she came.
This wasn’t what I’d expected when I’d come up with my half-cocked idea of meeting my bride-to-be.
I curled my fingers around her small, almost too-delicate hand and led her toward the dance floor. As we worked our way through the crowd, I noticed how people moved aside the instant they caught sight of her. Everyone seemed to know who she was.
I paused near the center of the dancing bodies, turning to face her.
