Page 16 of The Red Room
Another wave of blush, and I drink from my glass to hide it. “A bit.”
“Good to know. Yes, it was around the time I arrived here in Los Angeles,” he says.
“Can I ask why? Couldn’t find any good barbers?” I laugh and stop when I notice he isn’t.
Nik gnaws on his lower lip, a noticeable hesitation to say more. “This club, this lifestyle, was never my idea for where I saw myself. Parents have a way of controlling your decisions even when you’re grown. At least my father does.” He fills his glass halfway again and continues. “When it was decided I would move to LA and run Völk with Viktor, I needed a decision that was mine and mine alone. Plus,” he pauses and grins, “my father fucking hates my hair. So all the more reason to keep it.”
I giggle though a piece of my heart breaks for him. Living a life he didn’t want or ask for? I can relate. There isn’t a month that goes by that my own mother doesn’t decide to give me her two cents via phone call or Facetime if need be.Are you still on your diet plan? The food must be good down there. Have you tried keto? I’m really hoping to have a grandbaby before I’m in a nursing home.He’s right. Parents do have a way of controlling you even from thousands of miles away.
“Do you ever regret it?” I ask. “Saying yes to your dad and coming here?”
Nik stares across the table at me, each flicker and sway of the candles reflecting in his tremendous eyes. “Not tonight I don’t.”
SEVEN
We spend whatseems like hours talking, mostly me and my invasive questions, and Nik, happy to answer them all. His childhood in Russia. “Cold,” he had said, but after the small things he’s mentioned about his father, I’m sure he meant more than just the temperature. As the heir to the Vostik brand, he assured me there was nothing glamorous about running a company while the rest of his family, itching to take his place, would sooner see him dead. I assume he meant Viktor, but he never said it outright.
The dinner he prepared must’ve taken the better part of the day, and each bite of the beef brasato only made me guiltier for almost running out on him. He would have never forgiven me, and after all the work he put into making this night memorable, I couldn’t have blamed him. I’ve exhausted a laundry list of questions so far, but there’s still so much I want to know about him.
I lean in close and stare at him. “Oh, here’s one. What’s in the vred vroom,” I say, giving my best impression of a Russian accent, laughing as I do.
Nik’s smile fades and his face goes slack. He rests the fork at the edge of his plate. “The what?”
Pursing my mouth to one side, I point out the window. “The red room. Big red door in the middle of the room. Kind of hard to miss.”
“Oh. That. It’s a VIP room. Important guests of the club get access if they’d like.” He picks up his fork, and the stare he’s given me all evening shifts suddenly to his plate.
I lift my brows. “Oh. Well, can I see it?”
He waves the question away like it’s a gnat flittering in his face. “Nyet, it’s nothing special. This loft is far more comfortable, trust me.”
A certain amount of curiosity lingers in my gaze, and when he finally meets my eyes, I search them intently. I can normally pick out a red flag like a stray hair, but with him … I can’t find a single one. No, all I see are those golden irises with a thin black ring around them, creating the glowing effect I can’t fucking turn away from. Two glimmering lighthouse beacons guiding me home and into his arms. This loft is amazing, and the night has been beyond anything I could’ve imagined. What I really want, though, is more. To be wrapped up in him, his hands forming a knot behind my waist and our chests clashing together. For the warmth of his body to thaw the cold of not being touched in longer than I can remember. Our lips to meet halfway in this game of chicken we’ve started. Really, I just need to know this isn’t all in my head.
“You’ve asked me a lot of questions. May I ask you one?” he says, interrupting my mind working double-time.
I give him a half smile. “That would only be fair.”
Nik stands and walks to the other end of the table. Despite my entire body tightening, I force myself to stare up at him. “Our time last night was cut short, and there’s stillsomething I want to make up for.” Nik reaches out to me, his palm opening slowly. “Will you dance with me, Natalia?”
Intense heat fills my cheeks, sure to be as red as the lipstick Courtney applied in my bathroom. It took three fucking times to get it just right, and while I’m partly to blame for struggling to sit still, I think it might’ve had to do with how shaky her hands were coming down off her hangover. I bite my lip, sure somewhere Courtney is cursing at me for doing so and smooth my hand into his.
Lifting me up, Nik reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small remote, and clicks it. Although the music of the club still vibrates the marble floors, something soft takes over the subtle hum. He puts his hands over my hips and a burning sensation ignites my skin. Instinctively, I lock my hands behind his neck, and there we sway. Slow dancing in the dim lights of his loft.
He dips his chin, bringing our foreheads together. “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” I say and nod. My body is no longer my own. I am merely a puppet, following his lead while my subconscious floats somewhere above the two of us like a ghost enjoying the show. It’s not fear keeping me in place, it’s how close his full lips are to mine. Inches away. A slip, a slight twitch, and our mouths will blend seamlessly into one.
Breathe, Natalie.If he wants to kiss you he will. But does he? I never imagined he’d cook for me. Take all of my questions in stride. But dancing with me is so far out of left field. Maybe he does want me? Maybe … this isn’t in my head?
“Don’t do that,” he says.
I shake the racing thoughts. “Do what?”
“Trap yourself in your own head. Talk to me.”
There’s a vault-style hatch within me, much like the one Nikolai uses for a front door, begging to be opened, but I’m not sure I’m ready to punch in the code. After everything I’ve beenthrough, the constant disappointment. The let downs. Am I sure I even remember how to open it? I think what I’m afraid of most is not what might come out, but who I might let in.
“Why me, Nik? You could be with any of the women downstairs. Why am I the one up here right now?”