The Sinner's Club [18+] Book 1 Complete

chapter two.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok, we started from the beginning (pretty much) with Gabi's POV. Now let's see the VERY beginning from Viktor's POV (when he saw her for the first time).

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IT STARTS WITH a single red heel.

America is a vibrant place of color. I am accustomed to the more palatable grayness of Russia, and when I first come over to the States, it takes me time to...acclimate.

The vibrancy and the noise, the lack of decorum and utter absence of piety.

Nathaniel Sterling—for all his flaws—at least has traits I admire. Restraint, control, determination and grit.

My cousin, Maksim, does not hold an affinity for the same self-discipline. He revels in all the pleasures America—and Sin City—has to offer.

I manage to maintain my distance from it all, even whilst spending my hours in the nightclub Nathaniel has established as both a successful business and a front for our...other business ventures.

Until I see her.

The hallway is dark, the music dying down after a long night. I am walking toward Nathaniel's office, but pause when I hear a long sigh, followed by a soft voice.

"Has anyone seen my heels?"

"Sorry, I borrowed them! New girl has to lend her stuff, it's like an initiation," comes the reply.

"It's alright. Where are they?"

"Uh...somewhere on the main floor of the club?"

Another long sigh, and then a woman walks out from the changing room.

I don't know why I move back, hiding in the deep shadows of the hall.

I see hair the color of coffee hanging like a curtain around her face, skin golden and blemish-free. She is wearing a lacy, red bodysuit that cuts low down her chest. The swell of her breasts are perfect, her legs long and lithe.

She is the single most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

I should move, stop staring, continue on with the work I need to discuss with Nathaniel. But no matter how hard I try, my body refuses to cooperate, to move. I am frozen.

Her head low, she walks straight by me. She's bare-foot and seems tired, rubbing at her eyes as she goes.

I am concealed in a recess of the hallway, the darkness shrouding me, and I mastered the art of absolute stillness at a young age. But, a few paces past me, she comes to a stop and turns her head a fraction, as though she can sense someone watching her.

A predator. A prowler. A threat. It must raise some instinct inside of her because I see a shiver run down her spine, a small but sharp intake of breath.