I hate clubs. But in my world, they’re simply a necessity. Too much noise. Too many people. Too many men who think they can buy anything with enough money.

The bass booms through the room, making the glasses on the table vibrate, whilst I lean back in the dimly lit VIP lounge and let my gaze wander over the crowd. Below me, the club pulses like a bloody heart, full of greed, lust and bad decisions.

Sitting next to me is Mikahail, my right-hand man, calm as ever, a glass in his hand, his eyes scanning the room. He’s the only one I don’t have to explain myself to.

Viktor, my younger brother, is standing a little further back by the balustrade, watching the dance floor with that slightly amused expression he always wears.

Sergei stands broad-shouldered by the lounge entrance, arms crossed over his chest, whilst Lev stares at his mobile, having presumably already picked apart half the club’s clientele digitally.

“The delivery from the harbour has arrived,” Mikahail says quietly.

I just nod. “And the problem?”

“Solved.” Of course it is. With Mikahail around, problems rarely last long.

I raise the glass to my lips, but my gaze suddenly lingers on the stage.

As she steps into the light, the whole room seems to stand still for a moment. Long blonde hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, almost like liquid gold under the spotlights. Her waist is slender, her movements soft and feminine; every curve of her body is captured by the light.

I’ve seen enough women in clubs like that to spot the difference. She’s definitely very attractive – ‘hot’ would be a better word – but it’s her demeanour that fascinates me. There’s pride and elegance in every single one of her sexy movements.

“Who is she?”, I ask, without taking my eyes off the stage. Lev lifts his head ever so slightly. “Give me two minutes.”

“Dimitri really ought to protect his network better!”, Lev says after a quick glance at his screen. “Her name is Mona Devereux. She’s been working here for a few months. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing known about her family. Financial problems.”

Of course. That explains the job. But not that pride. Not that way of carrying herself, as if she were stronger than her circumstances. I set down my glass and stand up. Misha immediately sits up straight. “Boss?”

“Stay here.” My voice is calm, deep, leaving no room for discussion. I walk down the stairs to the lower level, and as always, the crowd parts almost instinctively before me.

Down there, I stop right in front of the stage.