Thirty and Single.

Chapter 20.

"Hey, beautiful."

I froze. The voice behind me was deep, rich, and laced with a thick Russian accent. Slowly, I turned around.

Dimitri Vladislav.

The mysterious blonde billionaire now stood less than a foot away, his lips curved into an amused smile that didn't reach his eyes. He was even more dangerous up close, those sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes, and an air of ownership that made my stomach twist.

"Did you like the champagne?" he asked, nodding toward the still-full glass on the counter.

I hadn't touched it. Instinct screamed don't trust this man.

I shook my head slightly, trying to find words. Before I could speak, he sighed deeply, like this was some exhausting game, and took a slow step toward me. My heart rate picked up.

"Let me be straight with you," he said, eyes now dark with intent. "I want you. I want you in my bed."

My mouth fell open. My thoughts collided like cars on a freeway.

Then, he tossed a stack of crisp bills on the bar.

A fucking stack.

What the actual hell?

"Excuse me?" I said, my voice tighter than I expected.

He just smiled wider, like a cat toying with a mouse.

"I think you mistook me for someone else," I said, trying to stay polite, but my skin was crawling.

"No mistake," he said. "I always get what I want."

Then he pulled out a cigar, lit it like we were in a goddamn mafia movie, and blew the smoke directly into my face.

I coughed, instinctively pulling back, eyes burning. His smirk deepened as he leaned toward me, about to whisper something into my ear.

Suddenly—

"Is there a problem?"

A familiar voice sliced through the tension.

Dimitri's gaze shifted behind me, and he let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Oooh, it's the Indian boy."

I turned and there was Corey. Standing tall, eyes locked on Dimitri, fists slightly clenched. He looked like he'd walked straight out of a hero's entrance, even in jeans and a hoodie.

Dimitri sneered. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Daddy? Or wait, wasn't Daddy the reason you had to change schools?"

"Leave her alone," Corey said, calm but firm.

"Oh, I see..." Dimitri's eyes flicked between us. "You're into brunettes now." His fingers brushed my hair and I flinched, instinctively stepping back.

"Dimitri." Corey's voice hardened. "I said leave her."

There was a beat of silence. A stare-off.

Then Dimitri laughed, lifted his hands in faux surrender, and backed away.

"Okay, okay. I'm leaving the little bird alone." He looked at me one last time. "But this isn't over, beautiful."

He gave Corey one final, chilling look and disappeared back into the crowd like a villain fading into smoke.

Corey turned to me immediately. "Are you okay? Did he touch you? Hurt you?"

I shook my head, but the club felt like it was spinning. The adrenaline, the fear, the alcohol, I could barely keep my balance. I grabbed his arm for support. "I'm... I think I'm just drunk."