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Authors: Bella Rose
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introductions. She had the odd thought that this was the most normal she had ever felt in her life.
Chapter Eight
“So I’m guessing that your friends have no idea what your family situation is like,” Viktor said over a plate of French fries in a pub around the corner from the theater. He had suggested they share a few things only because he knew she wouldn’t really eat anything on her own. It was something he was quickly learning about her.
“No.” Kira glanced down as though she felt guilty. “Sometimes I feel like I’m leading a false life or something because I don’t tell them what my family does. Do you think that’s like lying?”
“No.” Viktor shook his head. “You’ve been taking great pains to separate yourself from the mafia lifestyle. We’re the ones who keep dragging you back in.”
“Do you like it?”
He considered her question. “I like certain things about it.”
“Like the money.” She shoved a fry into her mouth.
He hated the idea that she thought he was all about the money. “It’s not just about the money, Kira. And you know you benefit from the money too.”
“I know.” She looked chagrined. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were greedy. I know you’re not like my father.”
“The men in the organization are my family. I grew up with them. Like Anatoly. He’s always been like a crotchety uncle who might bluster a lot, but who can be counted on.”
“I understand,” she said softly. “It’s like the other dancers. For the first time ever, I feel like I really belong to something.” She sighed.
He took a sip of the sangria he had ordered. It was good, tasting like fruit and very mild. “Have a taste. I got this for you.”
“Really?” She sat back in her seat, looking shocked. “I’ve never drunk alcohol before.”
“You’re twenty-one now, right?” he teased. “You should at least give it a try.”
A pretty blush stained her cheeks. “I guess I am twenty-one. I don’t think about it much.”
“So?” He had a few reasons for wanting her to taste the alcohol. The biggest being that he fully intended to be inside her that night.
She picked up the glass and sniffed. “It smells sweet!”
“Don’t sound so surprised. If it all tasted terrible, nobody would ever drink it.” He laughed. “Go ahead. Everyone deserves to do something wild and crazy a few times in life.”
KIRA SNIFFED THE drink once again, savoring the blend of sweet fruits and the slightly bitter tint of the alcohol. “What is it?”
“It’s called sangria. It’s made from wine and lots of fruit extracts.” He looked so calm and safe. How could she refuse?
She tipped the glass back and let the liquid brush her lips. Then she licked them lightly with the tip of her tongue to try it. Surprisingly, the flavor was wonderful. Feeling bold and maybe a little bit wicked, she took a few swigs. The effect was almost immediate and felt amazing.
It was like the room went fuzzy for a moment before coming back into sharp focus bigger and more intense. The fries on the plate looked even more scrumptious than they had a moment ago. And she most definitely wanted more of the drink.
“Whoa there,” Viktor said in a low, warm voice. “Slow down.”
“It tastes incredible. How have I never tried this before?”
“I’m going to guess that dancers probably avoid that kind of empty calorie overload,” he suggested.
Kira made a face. “Yeah. We do have to watch what we eat. Nobody likes a fat girl in a leotard.” She giggled and then slapped her hands over her mouth in shock. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud!”
Viktor chuckled. “That happens with alcohol.”
“So what happens when you drink?”
“Me?” He raised an eyebrow. “It takes a lot to get me drunk these days. Half of council meetings or gatherings with the lieutenants involve the consumption of several bottles of vodka.”
“So the secret to the mafia is that you all sit around and get
Chapter Eight
“So I’m guessing that your friends have no idea what your family situation is like,” Viktor said over a plate of French fries in a pub around the corner from the theater. He had suggested they share a few things only because he knew she wouldn’t really eat anything on her own. It was something he was quickly learning about her.
“No.” Kira glanced down as though she felt guilty. “Sometimes I feel like I’m leading a false life or something because I don’t tell them what my family does. Do you think that’s like lying?”
“No.” Viktor shook his head. “You’ve been taking great pains to separate yourself from the mafia lifestyle. We’re the ones who keep dragging you back in.”
“Do you like it?”
He considered her question. “I like certain things about it.”
“Like the money.” She shoved a fry into her mouth.
He hated the idea that she thought he was all about the money. “It’s not just about the money, Kira. And you know you benefit from the money too.”
“I know.” She looked chagrined. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were greedy. I know you’re not like my father.”
“The men in the organization are my family. I grew up with them. Like Anatoly. He’s always been like a crotchety uncle who might bluster a lot, but who can be counted on.”
“I understand,” she said softly. “It’s like the other dancers. For the first time ever, I feel like I really belong to something.” She sighed.
He took a sip of the sangria he had ordered. It was good, tasting like fruit and very mild. “Have a taste. I got this for you.”
“Really?” She sat back in her seat, looking shocked. “I’ve never drunk alcohol before.”
“You’re twenty-one now, right?” he teased. “You should at least give it a try.”
A pretty blush stained her cheeks. “I guess I am twenty-one. I don’t think about it much.”
“So?” He had a few reasons for wanting her to taste the alcohol. The biggest being that he fully intended to be inside her that night.
She picked up the glass and sniffed. “It smells sweet!”
“Don’t sound so surprised. If it all tasted terrible, nobody would ever drink it.” He laughed. “Go ahead. Everyone deserves to do something wild and crazy a few times in life.”
KIRA SNIFFED THE drink once again, savoring the blend of sweet fruits and the slightly bitter tint of the alcohol. “What is it?”
“It’s called sangria. It’s made from wine and lots of fruit extracts.” He looked so calm and safe. How could she refuse?
She tipped the glass back and let the liquid brush her lips. Then she licked them lightly with the tip of her tongue to try it. Surprisingly, the flavor was wonderful. Feeling bold and maybe a little bit wicked, she took a few swigs. The effect was almost immediate and felt amazing.
It was like the room went fuzzy for a moment before coming back into sharp focus bigger and more intense. The fries on the plate looked even more scrumptious than they had a moment ago. And she most definitely wanted more of the drink.
“Whoa there,” Viktor said in a low, warm voice. “Slow down.”
“It tastes incredible. How have I never tried this before?”
“I’m going to guess that dancers probably avoid that kind of empty calorie overload,” he suggested.
Kira made a face. “Yeah. We do have to watch what we eat. Nobody likes a fat girl in a leotard.” She giggled and then slapped her hands over her mouth in shock. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud!”
Viktor chuckled. “That happens with alcohol.”
“So what happens when you drink?”
“Me?” He raised an eyebrow. “It takes a lot to get me drunk these days. Half of council meetings or gatherings with the lieutenants involve the consumption of several bottles of vodka.”
“So the secret to the mafia is that you all sit around and get
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