Elsie stood in the middle of the houses foyer, sighing as her mother circled her before kneeling down and lifting her thigh high boots up even higher. Her lips were outlined in a smooth mocha brown and dotted with a deep red that had the perfect glossy glaze sitting atop it.

The rest of her makeup was smokey to match the sultry vibe of her lips and the makeup of course matched her outfit. It was a simple but effective one, fit for the club she was going to.

Security was all around, in their own simple outfits that men got to wear and be accepted for at the club.

"Can we just leave?" Elsie murmured to her mother as Clara stood up. Her mother was taller than her but their faces were identical, she typically thought it was fun to see the older, just as beautiful version of herself staring down at her.

But right now, in moments like these, it was foreboding. Especially, when Clara had whatever crazy work plan that involved Elsie. Tonights plan had become a routine- sometimes one she enjoyed and other times not.

But it didn't matter because it was all 'for work'.

"I'm fixing you to make sure you're perfect as usual." It was Clara's typical response.

When she heard footsteps that somehow she knew just who they belonged to and Elsie closed her eyes tightly while exhaling through her nose.

Dima immediately zeroed his gaze in on Elsie. And that gaze quickly narrowed.

"What the fuck is this?" His baritone, thrumming voice cut through the room and commanded attention. It was a general question but the way he stared at Elsie's outfit made it feel pointed.

He scanned her so intimately that he could see her thighs press together so snugly it made his throat feel tight. Those thighs were exposed, only shielded by high leather boots and a strip of black fabric that could maybe be considered a skirt by the most liberal of people.

Her top was equally tight and sleeveless but the neck was high, on top of that was an oversized and strategically worn leather jacket that brushed the same length as the skirt. He could see a strip of her stomach due to the skirt and skirt not meeting while she fiddled with whatever designer purse she had on.

Those curls of hers were perfectly messy, something he's learned from the time spent around his cousins wife- the curls never ended up like that without much effort.

Dima stared openly at those lips, the red was so deep that it reminded him of the blood he'd seen on his most productive days of work. He silently trailed his tongue over his own top lip slowly.

"This," Clara grinned with a step back. "Is networking using your resources."

Elsie pushed her nails into her hair, scratching her scalp quietly.

"Can I just go?" Elsie tried but they both continued.

"Networking," Dima scoffed, "How is sending someone with no business related knowledge out to God knows where networking? What training does she have to network what we need?"

Clara didn't even look in the russian mans direction as she still fussed over the perfect placement of her jacket. "There's a certain type of networking a beautiful woman can do without even lifting a finger. Elsie is a little beacon for dumb men who don't think with their brain. We get her in a hot spot of the people we want access to and get her seen. People talk, her name gets thrown around, and a meeting with me is that much more tempting because maybe- just maybe- that girl they saw at the club is going to see them. And even better she might just like them. Hm? But not for that long right Els? What do we always say?"

"Men always leave, use them or lose them."

Elsie had droned it while Clara chanted it.

Sighing quietly, Elsie finally looked at Dima who's face she couldn't make out. Then he sneered, waving towards her. "So you just send a liability out anywhere- waiting for her to get taken- or worse?"

This had Clara sharpening her stare at the pale man. "I don't take unnecessary risks, Ivanov. She goes out with between 10-15 security guards depending on the place and they have eyes on her always. This has nothing to do with any of our work so why don't you mind your own business."

"Everything here is my business. I don't fucking like this."

"I have safety protocol figured out, drop it."

The two had fully turned towards each other, ready to be at one anothers throat but the slamming of the front door had both of them snapping their head to where Elsie no longer stood.

Security guards awkwardly filed out after her, wondering which boss they were supposed to be following but all of them were learning that both Clara and Dima now didn't play about Elsie's safety.

"Идиоты. Чертовы дилетанты."

Idiots. Fucking amateurs.

Pushing past Clara, he too made his way out. Elsie and the goons were gone by the time he got to his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly, the dark haired man stared forward, motionless.

Inhaling slowly, he exhaled even slower. He tried to think, he tried to shift his car into to drive and begin the ride home.

But it wasn't working. He only thought, and thought, and thought, about Elsie. How she obviously didn't want to be going to the club, he could see it in her eyes. And that saying Clara had her spewing- God he fucking hates Clara.

Dima typically hated everyone but for whatever reason he especially hated Clara.

And... And most of all what Dima didn't acknowledge was how Elsie looked. Dima pressed his head back into the seat harshly, he felt that same feeling vibrating under his skin whenever she got so close- as she loves to do.

But Dima wouldn't acknowledge that- he refuses to.

He didn't ackowledge it because he was too busy throwing his car into gear and flooring it after Elsie's car.

~~

Dima shoved past the security, thanks to the area they were in and the whispers regarding his family Dima didn't often have to fight to get into places like this.

Establishments like this craved men like him.

He sneered at the low lights and music with heavy base. The smells of sweaty bodies from the dance floor mixed with perfumes, alcohol, and whatever someone was smoking.

It was expensive in here, but a club will always be a club.

Leaning against the balcony looming over the dance floor, Dima scanned the area. He felt eyes on him, he was in his regular work clothes. He didn't stick out that much because of them, they were a simple black button up and some slacks but he knew the sword hilt visible on his chest. That was probably what was gaining most of the attention onto him initially.

The sword on his chest, going down his sternum signified to anyone and everyone that he was an Ivanov at his core. Only the highest ranking and blood relatives gave the sword on their chest.

A hand on his arm made his dark eyes dark to the offender, immediately he drew away. Glaring silently, he saw a pale woman grinning up at him. Her smile was softened but her eyes were sultry. Or what he assumes is supposed to be sultry.

"Mr. Ivanov, what a pleasure," she stared openly at his family crest tattooed on his chest. Obviously the calling card of his bloodline and the reason she was in his face right now. "We would love to be of service to you. I'm all yours for the night to make whatever you need happen."

Sneering, Dima turned away from her to continue scanning the crowd. He knew the woman was only doing her job but he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.

The hostess tilted her head, leaning against the bannister next to him.

She watched his side profile, then looked into the crowd that he was searching with an urgency that was intense.

"Ah, here on business then? Not pleasure, I'm assuming."

Dima grunted dismissively, now looking for the security to try and pinpoint where Elsie might be.

"If you give me a name I could maybe help," The unnamed woman besides him rest her chin on her fist patiently.

This caught the russians attention, only for a moment did he glance over at her.

"Just gimme' a name."

"Bernard."

The pale womans eyes sparked with familiarity, "The pretty little things leading men in like a siren- don't tell me she's been serenading you too, Mr. Ivanov."

Once again, she tried to grab his arm with a familiarity that he didn't appreciate.

"Don't." He snarled lowly as he avoided the touch as if it was venemous. "Where?"

"She goes to the bar on the first floor on the left side, always comes up on the side closest to the door. But if she's not there she's usually stealing all the attention in the middle of the dance floor."

With that, Dima walked away from her to search on the first floor. He'd spotted Clara's schmucks of security. Now all he had to do was get eyes on his 'pretty little thing'.

In the back of his mind, while his stare became frantic, he was trying to justify this manhunt. He was telling himself it was because Elsie was a vulnerability to his families business. And the vulnerability was currently extra vulnerable here, with information and leverage ready for the taking.

And just as he was starting to convince himself, he caught a glimpse of her.

Elsie had her head leant back, her eyes were closed. Suddenly he was hyper aware of the music as she moved to it, she was fluid and seamless. The way her hips swayed and her body shook to the rhythm was hypnotizing.

Unfortunately, Dima could fucking understand why Clara sends her out.

Because what fucking man would be able to resist a sight like this?

Seconds after being hyper aware of her, he then became aware of the man behind her. Elsie combed her fingers through her hair, barely acknowledging the troll at her back.

Dima was pushing through people, moving like a dark mass through the crowd as others moved out of the large mans way. The energy radiating off of him was felt before he was even seen.

With flared nostrils as he caught sight of a stray hand sliding low on her waist, Dima grit his teeth.

And it was like in that moment she could sense him in the way her brows furrowed even before opening her eyes. Elsie snapped her eyes open almost accusatorily, seeing Dima towering over her.

She didn't even have time to say anything before his large hand wound around her hips, yanking her to the other side of him. He'd practically barred his teeth at whoever was dancing with her.

"Fuck off."

The words, while simple, were chilling in how he'd said it. The entire time Elsie was wide eyed, both her hands against Dima's chest as the now stood enmeshed with each other because of the crowd dancing around them.

"What are you doing?" Elsie pushed up even more on her toes so he could hear her. "You're making a scene!"

"What the fuck was that?" Dima growled lowly in her ear, he'd leaned down entirely so he was sure she heard him. Elsie fisted his shirt instinctively at the way his lips brushed her ear.

"Dima-" She whispered without thinking. Her lips parted as the closeness of their bodies hit her full force. It didn't matter that just seconds ago she'd been sandwiched between dozens of people, because now all she could feel was him.

The Russian man splayed his hand across her lower back, feeling the way it spanned across the entire width of her. The realization stoked the fire he was trying to put out inside of him but still he kept her plastered against him.

His other hand came up to grip the side of her neck, keeping her in place for her to hear and to be sure he could hear her.

Elsie's eyes fluttered shut at the touch and Dima inhaled deeply, feeling like he could breathe for the first time in this stupid fucking place. He wanted her scent to cling to him.

"Why was the man on you, куколка?"

little doll

Elsie leaned into his course palm, her eyes slowly opening to blink up at him through those long lashes. With her on her toes and how he'd lifted her up and into him because of the bodies around him, they were so close their breaths mingled.

"I-I don't... I was just dancing," Elsie's nose crinkled in confusion.

Dima hummed at the answer and somehow with the base thrumming underneath their feet she still heard it. Dima wanted to take his gun out and shoot himself when he fought the urge to press his nose against her own. The craving for the stupid, simple action made him want to vomit.

"His hands... they were on you." His dark gaze made her shiver, even under the low light they pierced her.

"He was- He was nobody..." She felt the need to reassure. "Thought you went home?"

"No," Dima sounded irritated with his own answer even through the rasp.

Her own eyes flickered up and down his face, then when someone bumped them from behind, their surroundings came rushing back to her. The people watching all came rushing back to her.

Taking her own hands, one of them trailed up his chest bravely but with caution. His eyes fell shut slowly at the feeling, shivering when she came in contact with his neck and his bare skin. Her fingers working their way into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" The question was harsh but Elsie was surprised to hear the.. weakness in Dima's voice right now.

But she couldn't dwell on it for long. "If you're going to crash my night, you have to find a way to look casual. Standing still in a crowd of moving people doesn't help." Holding his eyes, slowly she turned her back to him and pressed right back up against him.

Her hand hand gripped his arm that stayed braced around her. Dima felt the wind nearly get knocked out of him once she began finding her rhythm against while against him.

"At least act like you're moving against me," the hand on his arm reached back once to grip his expensive belt. Dima choked down a sound as she dragged his hips even further into her own.

"Fuck," Dima let his head fall back for a moment, feeling her warmth against him like this was like falling into the inevitable pit of doom. But instead of doom it was the pit of Elsie.

And that was dangerous because soon he wouldn't be able to escape- he wouldn't want to.