Page 101 of The Bratva Sinner

I raise my glass slightly. She does the same, and flashes me a sexy grin that tells me exactly what she’s thinking.

For a moment, she looks her age.

She's not thinking about dead mothers, Albanian threats, burned stables, or men with guns. She's just a nineteen-year-old woman out at a club with friends. She’s free to be happy and to enjoy the little things in life.

“Boss.” One of the floor managers appears at the edge of the VIP section. “We’ve got a situation downstairs. One of the regulars is causing problems.”

I sigh. Of course, there’s a situation.

I move closer to Lila. “I need to handle something. Stay here with Ava.”

She nods, turning back to her conversation.

I follow the manager down to the main floor, where some hedge-fund asshole is screaming at one of my servers about bottle service. It takes me ten minutes to explain the rules and point out that breaking them will land him on his ass and get him banned.

No one wants to be banned from my club.

When I get back to the VIP section, Lila’s seat is empty.

“Where is she?” I ask the guard.

He points toward the dance floor. “Ava took her down there about five minutes ago.”

I scan the crowd. She’s in the middle of the dance floor with Ava and another woman I don’t recognize. The music is pulsing, bodies are pressed close together, and Lila is moving with a confidence I haven’t seen.

A man is dancing too close. He reaches out a hand toward her waist.

I push through the crowd, and bodies part instinctively when they see my face. Damien is somewhere behind me, but I don’t care about anything except getting to her.

The man’s fingers graze her hip.

I grab his wrist and twist hard enough to make him yelp. “Touch her again, and you’ll lose your hand.”

He stumbles back, wide-eyed, and disappears into the crowd.

Lila spins around, her eyes flashing when she sees me. “What are you doing?”

I pull her against me and slide one hand into her hair, gripping her waist with the other. And then, I kiss her.

Right there. In the middle of my club. In front of everyone.

I kiss her like I own her. She’s mine, and everyone here needs to know it.

She makes a sound of surprise against my mouth and pushes at my chest for half a second before her fingers curl into my shirt, and she’s kissing me back just as hard.

The music pounds around us. People are watching. I don’t give a fuck.

When I pull back, she’s flushed and breathing hard. Her eyes are furious.

“That was a little much,” she snaps.

“You haven’t seen a little much.”

I bend down, grab her around the waist, and throw her over my shoulder.

“Maksim!” She pounds her fists angrily against my back. “Put me down!”

I carry her through the club, past the gaping staff and amused patrons. Damien’s trying very hard not to smile. Ava is laughing.