Page 58 of The Russian's Stalked Bride
This is Ivan’s world, and as much as I don’t entirely want to, I have to get used to it.
But the moment I glance over at him, everything in me pauses.
There’s a younger woman leaning toward Ivan with a manicured hand resting lightly on his shoulder, with a note of familiarity. Her hair is long and black as it cascades down her exposed back. Everything about the way she stands there screams confidence and effortless beauty. In a way, she seems to know she belongs here.
They’re too far away from me to hear what she’s saying, but it’s obvious they know each other.
Before I can stop it, something cold moves through me, and it’s suddenly all I can focus on.
I don’t have any proof, but an intuitive thought lingers in my mind while I watch them, struggling to focus on what the girls are saying now.
She’s someone he was with before. Likely one of many.
That makes the feeling in my chest turn from cold to burning, and I clench my jaw to keep it down.
Regardless of everything going on, we technically aren’t together. Neither of us has said anything about a relationship,which means I have no right to feel anything about this. Still, I do.
I have the tempting urge to let this absolutely ruin my night, but surprisingly, the longer it goes on, the less I want to cry or get upset about it. Instead, I feel irritated, but not devastated.
Knowing how Ivan operates, he wouldn’t like me causing a scene, and I refuse to embarrass myself by acting jealous in front of him or her.
So instead of staring any longer or spiraling to the point of exhaustion, I focus on the girls with a knowing smile. Then, I glance just beyond them at Nikolai, who looks incredibly bored on his own.
Just from looking at him, I can tell he just wants to fade into the background while he nurses the same drink and scans the room with mild disinterest as more couples move to the center of the floor to dance.
Even when he’s not working, he still looks vigilant about his surroundings, but not stern enough to be too off-putting.
As an idea slips into my mind, I excuse myself on impulse, then I head his way.
“Nikolai,” I say evenly, catching his gaze as it flicks to me. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else but here.”
He seems a little surprised by the sudden conversation, but he clears his throat and forces a small smile in greeting. “You’re not wrong.”
“Did you want to dance?”
Nikolai almost chokes on his drink, disguising it with a subtle cough before his dark brows furrow slightly. “What?”
It takes everything in my power not to laugh at his reaction, and I tilt my head slightly, feigning innocence. “It might help the night go by a bit faster.”
His hazel eyes slide past me in Ivan’s direction, then back to me again, studying me closely. Even with his full black suit on, his tattoos peek out from beneath his collar, up the side of his neck. “Dancing isn’t really my thing.”
Despite the claim, I can see the need to distance himself and not wanting to seem rude warring in him, and it’s enough of a weakness for me to exploit. I smile.
“I promise I won’t step on your feet…much.”
Nikolai glances between us again while I pretend not to notice, then he sighs, already resigned to his fate. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Am I?”
He gives me an unimpressed look, then mutters to himself, “Fine. One dance, but that’s it.”
Feeling triumphant, I move along with him onto the dance floor, where we find an opening, and he places his hands respectfully on me, keeping as much of a polite distance as he can manage. He looks away from me like a nervous boy at his first school dance, and it’s far funnier than it should be. Despite the stiff way he moves, it’s obvious he secretly knows how.
After a moment of vaguely awkward silence, he meets my gaze again. “If you’re trying to make a point, you’re succeeding.”
“I’m just enjoying the evening,” I tell him, grinning a bit more.
Nikolai deadpans, not at all impressed, but he indulges me anyway. “Uh-huh…you’re not as subtle as you think.”
