I guess, no matter how much I’d rather not, I’ve got to tell you about yesterday—or, more specifically, last night.
I stood in front of the mirror, checking myself out, and everything looked just right. The party I was heading to would be my first in six months, and I was planning to have a damn good time.
“Hook up with someone there,” Max said, sprawled out on my bed. Some people have annoying cats; I’ve got an annoying best friend.
“We’ll see how it goes,” I snorted back.
“No, promise me. How long are you gonna keep this up, Milana? It’s been six months since you dumped that loser. He’s not worth a single tear.”
“You know I’ve let that whole mess go. I’m not exactly pining away over here.”
My last relationship, which lasted three years, fell apart on its own, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion and a firm resolve to keep everyone at arm’s length. What started with “I can’t live without you” ended with “I can’t live with you.” In between those two lines, there was a whole lot of everything—some good, plenty not so good. So, when the door slammed behind him, I was surprised to find myself feeling relieved.
“Then hook up with someone already,” Max pressed.
“Fine, I’ll dedicate my next hookup to you.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear. But this won’t do. Take off that nun’s dress. I’m picking something else.”
With a businesslike air, he dove into my closet. He rummaged around for a while, shaking his head in disappointment, until he pulled out a dress I’d hidden away—and really should’ve thrown out.
“No way,” I said, taking a step back.
“Yes way,” he shot back, shoving the fabric into my hands. “Hurry up. I’m driving you. Come on, kiddo, I’ve got plans for tonight too.”
He gave me a playful smack on the butt and sent me to the bathroom to change.
“And don’t forget the red lipstick!” he called after me.
I just rolled my eyes. Try arguing with him—he’d probably paint it on me himself.
So now, looking at me, no one would have any doubts about what this thirty-year-old woman was after. A short black dress with thin straps and a plunging neckline. Sky-high heels, but that’s always the case—I love them. Well, sex, are you ready? Because I sure am.
I tried to throw on a jacket to cover up a bit.
“Don’t you dare,” Max barked.
“It’s chilly out,” I whined, trying to play the pity card. The urge to cover up was overwhelming.
“You’ll survive,” he said, shoving me out the door. “Stand up straight. Have fun and don’t overthink it. You’re a grown woman. You know that, right?”
I just huffed. Like it or not, I’d have to drag someone into bed tonight, because this guy would demand a full report. He’d probably put me in timeout if I didn’t deliver. Grown woman, my foot.
The nightclub “Aquarium” was a pretty popular spot. At the entrance, I was hit with loud music and a crowd of people. After wandering around for a bit, I found my table, where a group of eight was already seated. I only knew Inga and her boyfriend, Artem. Scanning the room, my eyes naturally landed on a guy. Tall, broad-shouldered, ridiculously good-looking—exactly my type. Dark-haired with blue eyes, always my weakness. But. There was a but. The expression on his face screamed, “I’m the king and god of this place.” No thanks, not even for one night.
“Everyone, this is my friend Milana,” Inga introduced me.
They all raised their glasses in a toast. I even caught an interested glance—not from Blue Eyes, though. He looked like he was experiencing the most boring moment of his life right now. No, the look came from someone else, who I later learned was named Oleg. Not bad. Looked like a candidate for a late-night adventure had just appeared.
We drank a little. Since my goal was crystal clear, I went for vodka. Casual conversation started, but it quickly spiraled into nonsense.
“Every woman has her price,” was where we ended up, though it had started with talk of love. Ivan—yep, that’s the name of this arrogant jerk—was speaking and staring right at me.
Interesting. Was he expecting an argument? I don’t waste my time debating idiots. So I just stared back silently. Okay, maybe I curled my lip in disdain.
“What, are you saying if I offered you a hundred grand, you’d turn it down?” he challenged.
Oh, poor guy.
“I might have a price, but it’s way out of your league, buddy,” I shot back.
“How much?”
I exhaled and shifted my gaze to Oleg. I don’t engage in pointless arguments. I’m not at an age where I foam at the mouth to prove my point.
We didn’t talk again after that. We both had other things to do. I flirted with my potential date for the night, and he had someone to keep him occupied too. By the end of the evening, a blonde was practically sitting on his lap. I bet he’d save a bundle—she didn’t even look twenty.
The vodka and music did their job. When Oleg, pressing me close during a dance, whispered in my ear if I needed a ride home, I just nodded.
“Grab my stuff and say goodbye for me. I’ll wait outside. Got any cigarettes?” I asked.
After getting a pack and a lighter, I stumbled outside, a little unsteady on my feet.
The cool night air and the smoke started to clear my head. Taking a satisfying first drag, I realized I wasn’t going anywhere with him. I’d have to politely ditch him and call it a night.
I waited, watching the cigarette burn down to the end.
“Let’s go,” a voice said, catching me off guard. It wasn’t Oleg. As absurd as it sounds, it was Ivan.
“I’m not waiting for you,” I said, not even turning around.
“Everything has a price, like I said.”
And my price, apparently, was a blonde. But why did he care?
“I’ll call a cab.”
“Don’t be stupid. I’m already heading out. I’ll give you a lift.”
Ivan walked ahead without looking back, while I stared at my cigarette butt like it could explain what the hell was happening. No matter how much I hypnotized it, the situation didn’t get any clearer, so I tossed it away. And followed him. Damn it, I was still a little wobbly.
In the car, we didn’t talk. I just gave him my address curtly. But it felt like there was a lightning bolt in the car, ready to strike at any moment.
When we pulled up, the vodka in my system decided to say goodbye, and it was definitely the booze talking, not me.
“You ruined my chance at sex tonight, buddy. And it’s been a while for me.”
“I can help with that,” he said, and I noticed just how gorgeous his eyes were. And his lips—way too sensual for their own good. But then again, what doesn’t look good when you’re half-drunk?
“I don’t give away a valuable resource like myself for free,” I said. If you weren’t such a jackass, maybe things could’ve worked out.
“How much?” he asked, placing his hand on my knee.
“You know that cliché line?” I leaned in, placing my hand over his. “‘If you were the last man on Earth, I still wouldn’t be with you’—that’s about you, buddy.”
He stared at me, clearly not expecting that response. I pushed his hand off, flipped him the bird—glad my manicure was fresh. I’d gone for a bold red instead of my usual nude, almost like I’d known I’d need it. It must’ve looked good. I slammed the car door and strutted away. I wobbled a bit on my way to the stairs, but it didn’t take away from my swagger.
God, he got under my skin. The only thing that comforted me was the thought that I’d never see that creep again in my life.
But as you already know, that wasn’t meant to be.