Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(26)

“Oh man, not another bachelorette party,” a guy says as he sidles to the open space beside my stool. He wears black leather pants and nothing else. Lanky with defined, cut muscles. “Hey!” He leans forward and taps the bar. In the red overhead lights, I suddenly make out his face.

“Timo?” I ask.

His head whips to me, his dark brown hair falling in his lashes, the sides shorter. His dangling cross earring sways with the abrupt movement. “Thora James,” he says my name into a wide grin. His gray eyes brighten, his smooth face illuminated red, green and blue by three stacked neon necklaces. “I didn’t know you live here.”

At the blackjack table, I never confessed about my job situation to Timo. Nothing about the audition ever came up, so I’m sure he assumed that I was a girl moseying in and out of Vegas.

“I do now,” I tell him.

“I’d toast to it, but you know…” Timo rests his forearms on the bar and leans over. “Bachelorette prejudice!”

Camila flips him off from the other side, her cheeks flushed from being hurried.

Timo shakes his head. “Next time, I’m wearing a bride-to-be sash if that’s all it takes to get service.”

“TAT! TAT! TAT!”

My pulse pitches. I crane my neck over my shoulder and notice the cluster of people, huddling together in the center of the room. Nikolai bets people every Saturday night then. Maybe because Amour isn’t scheduled for Sundays, so he won’t have to wake early for work. Wild and responsible.

It’s crazy to think that just behind the wall of people, he stands there, poised and confident—ready to provide an “experience” for some other girl.

Timo lets out a long groan. “I’m missing it.” He hunches over, keeping his forearms on the sticky bar, and he turns his head to me. “So what do you do in Vegas?”

“I just started working at Phantom.”

His brows jump in surprise. “Phantom.” He inspects my long coat and stilettos. “Are you one of the jello shot girls? Not that I’m judging.”

“No jello shots.” I highly doubt the manager would allow the Virgin Mary to lie on the bar and let men and women suck shots off my bare stomach, covered in pungent alcohol and wet dollar bills. “I do an aerial hoop act for a few hours and then they swap me out with another girl.”

His dazzling smile extends even wider. “A club acrobat. I always wanted to try it out, but my parents would never allow it. Too much entertainment, not enough art.”

I can’t see his parents stopping him from doing anything. He’s underage in a Vegas club, drinking. They seem really relaxed to me, but then again, I don’t really know him or the Kotovas. “You’re eighteen,” I remind him. “You can do what you want, can’t you?” It’s a stupid question. I understand, so well, the pressure to please a parent.

“I’m twenty-one, Thora James.” He gives me a look, and his lips twitch up in a smirk. “And it’s not just my parents. Nikolai would have me by the balls.”

“Timo!”

I freeze at the sound of his deep voice.

“Speak of the devil!” Timo yells, whipping around and setting his elbows on the bar. “Please tell me you know some trick into breaking the bachelorette hypnosis on all the bartenders.”

My joints stiffen as Nikolai scoots closer, not noticing my lingering presence. I keep my eyes planted on the racks of liquor instead of confronting him. But I sense his towering frame behind me.

I thought there was a slim possibility that he’d be here tonight. The scariest part: I think I hoped for it. My belly flutters with nerves. I don’t want him to think I stuck around Vegas for him. That’d be weird. And beyond awkward.

Nikolai slides even closer to the bar, and his arm actually grazes my shoulder. He’s not fazed by the touch, nor does he acknowledge the brief contact. I’m frozen solid to this place.

Nikolai raises his hand and flags down a female bartender. She immediately zips over to him.

“What the fuck?” Timo curses, annoyed and amazed at how easily his brother could summon the girl.

“I’ll take a Jack and Fizz.” Nikolai turns to his brother, his back facing me. His height is not only impressive and intimidating but it shrinks me to a little tiny thing. I might as well disappear from sight. “What do you want?”

“A Manhattan.” Just as the bartender goes to leave, Timo adds, “Wait!” He leans over the bar to look down towards me. “Thora, what do you want?”

Boom.

My cover is blown.

While Nikolai’s sweltering gaze bears down on me, full of what-the-fuck confusion, I peek at the drink specials. “Tequila sunrise,” I manage to say clearly.

The bartender swivels to her liquor bottles and juices, concocting our drinks. Every tendon snaps as I slowly turn to meet Nikolai’s piercing grays, steel that drills right through me. His glow necklace turns his white button-down into a deadly red hue.

I open my mouth to say something, but I’m not sure what to say. I end up swallowing air.

“You stayed,” he speaks first, his voice lower than before. He seems more than just indifferent, but I can’t place his sentiments. Good or bad. He inspects my outfit with a once-over, his eyes descending in a hot wave. “What for?”