The VIP section reeks of the usual mix of nightclub smells: perfume, sweat, smoke, desperation. Below us, bodies writhe on the dance floor like they’re trying to f**k through their clothes.
Usually, I’d be down there, picking my entertainment for the night. Some blonde with daddy issues. A brunette who likes it rough.
Tonight, all I can think of is a pair of amber eyes and dark hair that smells like orchids.
Fuck me.
“You almost told her, didn’t you?” Taras leans back, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His old nervous habit rearing up again. “About our plan for the clinic.”
The gin burns going down on the second sip. “How’d you know?”
“Because you’ve got that look. Like you’re about to do something monumentally stupid for pussy.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” He
