"...the worst is yet to come
But at least we'll both be beautiful
and stay forever young
This I know..."
~ Can't Feel My Face, The Weeknd

"What's your real name?"

I looked up. My eyes met his and he raised an eyebrow, his lips curled upwards in amusement.

"Just Cherry," I replied smoothly, bowing my head and taking another sip of the drink.

"Well, Cherry, I'd like to take care of you." His finger brushed my cleavage before he gripped my waist and pulled me closer. "Will you let me take care of you?"

"How do you plan on doing that?" I asked, my tone low and playful.

He smiled. He looked handsome when he smiled. His eyes crinkled in the corners, making him look softer. Kinder.

"It's what I do," he replied simply, his shoulders lifting and falling in a casual shrug. "I take care of people."

"What kind of people?"

"People close to me. People I care about." His grip tightened. "People I love."

"And you think I'm worth taking care of?"

"I do."

"Do you know why I'm here?" I tilted my head to the side.

"I know what you do to make a living, if that's what your asking."

"Yet, you think I'm worth taking care of."

"It's more than that, Cherry." He pulls away and throws an arm over my shoulder, turning me so we're facing the room. "I think you're worth loving. And soon, I'll show you I'm worth loving, too."

*****

Milan use to play poker all the time. And she was good. She'd play for hours, and leave with almost everyone's checks in her pocket.

Me, on the other hand, had no idea how poker worked. These men were playing Texas Hold 'Em, which seemed simple enough when they explained it, but now I'm just confused as fuck. Not that it mattered. I wasn't here to learn how to play poker. I was here to seduce Roman Petrov. He hadn't looked at me again, his eyes focused solely on the game. That was okay. I wasn't prepared to have his eyes on me yet.

He wasn't what I expected.

I glanced down at myself, and suddenly felt more appreciative toward the dress Nicolas chose for me. It was an expensive freaking dress, but it was perfect. The long, form-fitting black dress had a plunging neckline, going all the way down to my waist. It had a sexy slit up the side, stopping inches above mid-thigh, as well as a cutout pattern on the back. The heels were high as hell—so fucking uncomfortable—but incredibly sexy and elongated my legs, so I couldn't complain.

Nicolas had pulled out a case of jewelry and told me to pick two things. I chose a diamond choker and matching teardrop earrings. Then I straightened my hair, and piled it on my head in an elegant style.

Makeup was kept to a minimum—mascara, eyeshadow, a little blush, and lipstick.

I looked good. I looked great. Actually, I looked too fine to be modest. I'm one of the baddest in the room right now.

And I needed to be, because if I wasn't, Roman would have no interest in me.

I watched Roman as he played, my interest in him notably increasing. Good looking men—real good looking men aren't as easy to come by despite what people think. Sure, there's some hotties, some cut guys with the adorable smile and the dimples. But then there's men who are actually downright sexy in every way. Nicolas and Roman were prime examples of that. But Nicolas was a dick. So I'll go for the next best thing, gladly.

Roman's focus was strictly on what he was doing. His eyes flickered around the table, taking note of everyone he was playing against. He watched everything—movements, gestures, little smiles, quick glances. And he listened.

He lacked the arrogance that his opponents had, the kind of arrogance Nicolas had. That didn't mean he didn't know his worth or he lacked self-confidence. He was self-assured, he just didn't feel the need to flaunt his assurance.

I bit my lip, my skin growing warm. I want to fuck him.

Now.

"Bullshit," someone snapped, slapping their hand on the table and startling me from my thoughts. "Fucking bullshit!"

"Calm down, Martin," Roman Petrov said calmly, tilting his head. He lazily flicked his hand, beckoning his 'bodyguard' over. "We go through this every year."

"It's fucking rigged." Danny growled. "You've been cheating for—"

"Martin." Roman Petrov stood to his full height. "Maybe we should have a conversation."

Something in his voice let me know that Martin didn't really have a choice in the matter. His face went red and he stomped out of the room, Roman calmly following behind him. The bodyguard followed them both, and the door slammed shut.

Green Eyes pulled out from the table and glanced back at me. His lips stretched into a wide grin and he sauntered over.

"You really are good luck."

"You won?"

"I didn't lose all my money like Martin, so..." He shrugged and raised a brow. "You weren't watching?"

"Poker isn't a game I'm well versed in."

He smiled. "No matter. You just helped me, I think I ought to know your name."

A drink was suddenly in my line of sight, and there was a hand attached to it.

"Compliments of Mr. Petrov." The waitress pushed it in my hand.

Surprise settled in me. "R-Roman Petrov?"

"You know him?" Green Eyes' eyebrows rose.

"No, not..." I shake my head. "No."

"You must have caught his eye." Green Eyes sounded jealous. "You're a beautiful woman, I'm not surprised."

"Actually, I'm meant to give drinks to everyone. Not just you." She smiled smugly and walked off, her hips swaying as she did so.

I turned back to Green Eyes who now wore a grin on his face, apparently glad Roman Petrov isn't trying to steal me from him.

Not that I was his to steal in the first place.

"Do you mind showing me to the ladies room?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure," he gestured towards the door in a ladies first motion and then led me back down the hall. "So Roman Petrov...you've never met him before?"

"I've heard a lot about him, but I've never actually put a face to the name."

"The guy who was talking to Martin? That's Mr. Petrov. Scariest fucking guy I know, excuse my language."

"Scary?"

He didn't really seem scary, but then again, I didn't really know him. Nicolas said little about the man, but I did pick up a vibe that getting on Roman Petrov's bad side was not an option.

"He's the no nonsense type. And, just between me and you..." He leaned closer. "There's a few guys who worked under him that's now either missing or dead."

"Heavy stuff," I murmur. "So he's one of those."

"I don't like to gossip, but whatever it was that got him all that money? It wasn't legal." His lips lifted up in the corners a little. "I mean everyone's dabbled in a little illegal activities at least once in their life, right? I mean look at us here. But Petrov? He didn't dabble. He immersed."

I don't like to gossip, my ass.

"So all his money is—"

"Soaked in somebody's blood."

"Blood money." I frown. "How do you know any of this?"

"People talk. And Roman's got this unavoidable reputation. Everyone knows what he does, but no one can prove it and no one's willing to say anything about it because..."

"Because his hands are soaked in the blood of anyone who's ever pissed him off."

"And then some." His eyebrows lifted. "Why so curious about him?"

"People talk," I throw his words back at him lightly. "I wondered how much of it was true."

"You don't want to get mixed up with him or his business." He stops in front of a door. "Here's the bathroom."

"Thanks. And don't worry," I smiled as I pushed open the door, "I have no interest in getting involved with a man like Roman Petrov."

Somehow it was one of the easiest lies to fall past my lips.

*****

"I saw you during the poker game." It was a voice so seductive and confident, yet chilling at the same time, I knew it could only belong to one man.

"Mr. Petrov." His name rolled from my lips almost as if it belonged there. I raised the glass to my lips and held it there, not taking a sip. "Nice to finally meet you."

"I'm sorry, I cannot say the same until we have actually met." My thighs clenched together. He was standing directly behind me, his breath tickling the back of my neck. "Face to face."

My lips curved up. Slowly, I turned around on the barstool until I was looking at him head on. And by head on, I mean my face aligned with his chest. Jeez, he was tall. My eyes raised and met his gaze. Electric blue. So damn blue.

"Mr. Petrov," I repeated, a sly smile playing on my lips, "nice to finally meet you."

His head tilted a bit, and pulled his bottom lip with his teeth as he looked me over. Eye-raped me is more accurate, seeing as he was basically undressing me with his them. They started from the top of my head and travelled down slowly.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss...?"

"Neila."

"Neila," he repeated, voice lowering an octave. My vagina nearly cried. "I saw you with Ray, Neila."

"Ray?"

"Ray Edison." Ah. Green Eyes.

"He, uh, latched onto me." I turn back around and take a sip of my drink, the liquid burning my throat as it slid down.

"He's a child. You don't want to concern yourself with children." Roman waved his hand.

My eyebrow raised in amusement.

"You don't approve of him? My mother might, he seemed nice enough. And she's been bugging me about finding a nice man."

"I can be very nice," he drawled. "Maybe not in the ways your mother would approve of."

My lips stretched into a smile as he turned me back to face him. I uncrossed my legs and parted them. The slit revealed almost my entire leg, and his eyes zoned in on it. His gaze was almost predatory, and it made me hot. Made me want him more than I already did.

I licked my lips. "What she doesn't know won't kill her."