Elena’s POV.
The bathroom door clicked shut behind him, and the sound of the lock turning made my stomach drop.
Dmitri stood there for a second, just looking at me. The club music was muffled now, reduced to a distant thud that matched the sudden racing of my heartbeat. His mismatched eyes moved over me slowly from my face, down the tight red dress, to my legs in the black heels, and back up again. He looked darker than usual. He looked tense and hungry.
“How did you get in here?” I asked.
“And why are you even here?”
He walked straight toward me without answering at first. Each step he took was slow like he had all the time in the world. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
“Because I’m the owner of this club,” he said. “And I saw you dancing with that drug dealer. Don’t worry,
