Nadia
NadiaI work to calm my breath as we approach Rue’s Lounge, the pub where Flynn and Story’s band plays on Thursday nights.
Crowds aren’t my thing. I avoid going places where someone might accidentally touch me. The worst, though, are nighttime crowds in places where people are drinking. Because the chances of getting touched skyrocket.
But I rode over with Maykl, the doorman at the Kremlin. He’ll protect me from unwanted attention. He looks about as fierce as Oleg, Story’s giant mute boyfriend with bulging muscles and crude tattoos covering his arms.
I know Adrian tasked him with keeping an eye on me while he’s gone, and he’s done a good job. I also know Adrian probably threatened to cut his balls off if he touched me. He doesn’t even look me in the eye.
Honestly, while I feel sa
