Of course he doesn’t want you to strip. You’re not exactly Jennifer Lopez.
“I don’t want you to strip. I want you to stay clothed.” He looked disgusted that I would even make the suggestion. “Fully clothed,” he added testily, and mortification turned my stomach. “You’ll tend the bar with the others.”
“I don’t know how.”
His stare was blunt. “You’ll learn.”
That didn’t sound bad. In fact, it sounded great. He held out his hand once more and, keeping my hand covered with my sleeve, I placed it into his. When his warm hand cocooned mine, I realized how large it was. It didn’t take long for me to take in the rest of him. He was tall, around 6’1” or 6’2”, had broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs, and a stern face. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. It had to be. It didn’t look like this guy could buy off the rack. I glanced up at his face, and his light brown eyes stared right back at me.
A shiver went through me. His face came across harsh. His cheekbones were high, his chin was strong, his nose slightly crooked, and he had generous lips. His skin was lightly tanned and flawless; he didn’t have any laugh lines. It was almost as if he didn’t smile at all.
It suddenly hit me. Why would a man who wore suits and spoke in such a classy manner help a homeless girl who he caught stealing?
I pulled my hand out of his. “If this is a trick…” My hair covered half of my face, but I could see the sudden tilt of his head and narrow of his brow. I told him honestly, “If you want to call the police, call them. I promise I’ll stay and tell them I stole the wallet.” I lowered my face and added thoughtfully, “They might even feed me.” I peeked back up at him. “But getting a person’s hopes up and joking about things like that to someone who has nothing…it’s cruel.”
He looked at me for a long moment before taking my hand again—without permission, I might add—and stating, “I don’t lie.”
He said this confidently, in a way that left me inclined to believe it. I was led out of the bathroom and down the hall before I asked quietly, “Why are you helping me?”
Without looking at me, he led me on and responded, “You look like you need the help.”
***
Lev
The later it got, the quieter the bar became. Paolo’s memory had been celebrated long into the night, and while patrons were calling it a day, the club would be open until three a.m., regardless of if it were empty.
I led the girl back out to the floor, and I couldn’t help but notice how tiny her hands were. I liked the way they felt in mine. I did not like how cold her skin was. I’d have to buy her warmer coat.
I gazed down at her. Scratch that. I’d have to buy her a coat—any damn coat—in her size.
At the lip of the foyer, I leaned down to the girl’s ear and ordered, “Stay here,” and then walk over to spot Anika behind the bar. Her face brightened at the sight of me.
My lip quirked. I liked Anika. She’d always been kind to me. We’d known each other since we were children, and her brother, Viktor, was somewhat of an honorary family member and could be found at our house, eating our food.
“Hey, Lev,” she said as she gently tossed her long, red wavy hair over her shoulder. She puffed out a breath, blowing part of her fringe off her forehead. “What a night, huh?”
I liked the way Anika spoke. It always calmed me. She had such a soft lilt to her voice that at one point I thought her an angel. “Hey, Ani.” I handed her Sasha’s wallet. “Can you make sure my brother gets that?”
She smiled sweetly. “Of course. You off for the night?”
I nodded. “Have a good one.”
Her smile dissipated at my hurried goodbye. She spoke quietly, “You too, handsome.”