Chapter 8 He's Just Like My Father

Leni

I hate Dusan.

I watched him, his smile had a mask of easy charm as he mingled with the other men in the room, their laughter a sharp contrast to the coldness that had settled in my heart. I was trapped in the mindset of a group of vile women, they all gave me snarky looks, they pointed at me too while laughing. I tried to mingle with the few women who didn't say anything or even notice me.

"Hi, I am Leni." I introduced myself as sweetly as I could.

"Who are you?" a lady asked, her voice laced with a condescending sweetness. Her eyes, narrowed and held a gleam of nasty amusement.

"Oh, I'm with Dusan Nikolac." My voice was steady, but inside, the anger in I was brewing.

What was it with these people? They saw us walk in together, I wasn't the only woman here so why was I the center of attraction?

"That wasn't my question, who are you to him?" The emphasis on "to" was a deliberate scorn, a challenge to my place in Dusan's life.

I met her gaze, her smile was a fake mockery of warmth. "I think you should ask Dusan, shouldn't you?" I turned away, the taste of disgust rising in my throat.

I walked towards the small, dimly lit bar, looking for comfort in the alcohol. Dusan was still in the VIP section, his attention fixed on his companions, I had expected him to come defend me, to tell those women off but he didn't, and it hit me I was an escort tonight. Not his wife, just another random bimbo.

Even a bimbo was introduced to people, I deserved the least bit of introduction, or maybe a nod of acknowledgment from him but there was nothing. This is his world for Christ sakes, his people.

As I glared at him, my eyes involuntarily drifted to the sharp lines of his jaw, his messy dark brown hair that made me want to run my hands through them, and beautiful piercing green and gray eyes that seemed to see right through me.

Even in my anger, I couldn't deny the way my heart skipped a beat when our gazes met. His brown skin was flawless, except for the small scar on his chin. I found myself wondering, again, how he'd gotten it. Despite my best efforts to resist, my eyes roamed over him, taking in the broad shoulders, the lean physique that seemed chiseled. It was infuriating, really – how could he be so infuriatingly attractive, even when I was mad at him?

"What are you doing seated all alone here?" A deep, resonant voice broke through my daydreaming.

I turned, my eyes narrowing at the handsome man before me. His blue eyes, clear and inviting, glowed under the soft light, but they lacked the dark intensity of Dusan's.

His hair was a shade of warm brown, styled casually, and his smile was genuine, too genuine.

"I just needed to distance myself from the noise," I replied, my voice laced with a hint of exhaustion. "And why are you here?" I wondered.

"My uncle invited me to this party. I've never been around his clique before and thought I'd finally involve myself." He shrugged, a disarming gesture.

His smile was contagious, and despite my inner turmoil, I found myself smiling back.

The conversations between us flowed effortlessly, the best distraction from the anger that had gripped me. We talked about everything and nothing, the little experiences we have both has and the things we wanted to do, and for a fleeting moment, I felt alive again.

Maybe I should give relationships a chance, I thought, a flicker of hope igniting within me. I've always been so watched over, so focused on my own path. Martin seemed like a breath of fresh air I needed, he wasn't dangerous or involved in something illegal like Dusan, He was sweet and he'd never hide me.

As the conversation continued, a dark shade fell over us, and a voice, cold and possessive, cut through the air. "Hello, Wife." It was Dusan, his presence radiating a mild sense of threat.

"Ah, Mr. Nikolic. You know Leni?" Martin's voice was calm, almost nonchalant, but I could sense a flicker of apprehension beneath the surface.

He acted as if he didn't hear dusan's claim. Dusan ignored him, his eyes fixed on me. "I don't appreciate my wife flirting with someone other than me."

I met his gaze, my smile laced with sarcasm. "Mr. Nikolic, if you can't act like a husband to me, then don't expect me to act like your wife. Tonight, I'm your escort, nothing more. So don't expect me to keep to myself."

"An escort, you say? Fine." Before I could react, Dusan's arm snaked around my waist, pulling me away from Martin.

He dragged me towards the VIP room. The air in the VIP section filled with tension and it made me uneasy.

Dusan pushed me towards a plush velvety couch and turned his attention to a female waiter, his voice dropped to a low whisper as he ordered drinks. I sat there, seething, feeling like a unwanted doll. He hadn't even bothered to introduce me properly AGAIN, just a curt nod to the room.

He leaned closer to the waitres, his hand lingering a moment too long on her arm and then he proceeded to rub his hands on her slender arms.

My jealousy, which I had tried so hard to conceal, erupted. "Is that the way you like them? Young, naive, and easily manipulated?" I snapped, my voice laced with malice.

Dusan's eyes flickered to mine, a cold, angry glint in them. "Volkov, this is Leni Kaiser, an escort. Well, my escort, but she can be yours for tonight."

The words hit me like a physical blow. What the fuck?

A scream tore from my throat. "You bastard!. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!" I lunged at him, but he was too quick.

He simply turned and walked out with the waitress, leaving me standing there, trembling with rage. He didn't even turn back.

Volkov, a hulking man with a predatory look in his eyes, smirked. "Well, well, well. Looks like you're free for the taking."

He reached out, his hand grasping my arm. He looked at me like a piece of meat, his touch on my arm felt so disgusting and his voice reminded me of an old pervert I met while in college.

"Dusan sure has good taste in women." He whispered into my ears, I could feel his tongue on my neck. I recoiled in absolute disgust.

Fuck.

Something inside me snapped. The humiliation, the betrayal, the sheer audacity of Dusan's actions – it all merged into a blinding rage. I grabbed a nearby champagne bottle, the glass cold and heavy in my hand.

Without hesitation, I smashed it over Volkov's head. Volkov crumpled to the floor, a crimson stain spreading across his scalp.

I didn't wait to see the aftermath of my actions. I turned and ran, adrenaline pumping through my veins. The city streets became a blur as I fled, my heart pounding in my ears.

I didn't know where I was going, only that I had to escape. What had I been thinking when I married Dusan, that he'd be any different from my father? That he'd love- no, at least respect me in the very least.

Suddenly, the harsh glare of headlights filled my vision. A police car screeched to a halt, blocking my path. "Stop!" a voice boomed through a megaphone. I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

The officers approached, their faces held grim smile. "You're under arrest for thaw assault of Sergei Volkov," one of them said, his hand reaching for my arm.