I tugged at the hemline of my too-short dress as Evgeni Atanasov came back up to me, two full drinks clutched firmly in his meaty hands. Starting my infiltration of Sofia’s biggest crime family had been easy enough since they all seemed to favor the family-owned club, Letyasht, and it turned out that Bulgarian men weren’t remotely shy about approaching women that caught their eye. My wardrobe, though, was another story…keeping up with the club-hopping women of Sofia was no easy feat. I remembered the dressed-to-the-skimpy-nines devushki from my time in Russia, of course, but I’d never felt the need to compete with them.
To catch an Atanasov’s eye, though, I had to dress the part. Parker had laughed until she howled when we Skyped and I modeled my latest man-catching apparel. Short, skimpy, and sky-high was the name of the game.
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