He’s sounding a lot like Reid. “You know I will.”
Strider scoffs, but he lets me go far easier than Reid would. That man was still begging me to come with him to very last, but I can’t turn away now. I need to look my nemesis in the eye and get the measure of him.
My legs are shaking as I stand between the giant stone columns at the entrance doors. I’ve warned Jason of Barrett’s arrival, and we’ve agreed he should keep out of the way unless Barrett requests his presence.
I’ve never felt so alone as I watch an SUV bring the recent arrivals from the landing strip to my door. The driver is one of the guards I’d seen patrolling the gates. He hadn’t looked particularly friendly the last time I saw him, and his expression is even more stern as he gets out and opens a passenger door.
A blond-haired man, dressed elegantly in a grey,pinstripe suit climbs out. Ilya is in his forties, with sharp features and cold blue eyes that immediately fix on me.
I keep my hands clasped behind my back, resisting the urge to smooth down my olive-green pant suit. I hold his gaze and as I nod in greeting, my silken hair sweeps forward, skimming my shoulders. My expression is open and courteous. I don’t smile. I’m a professional. And still scared shitless.
Barrett scrambles out from the other side of the car, circling around to catch up to Ilya as he mounts the steps. “Ilya, this is my estate manager, Quinn Jamieson.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Barkov,” I say, extending my hand.
“I’ve heard so much about you, Quinn,” he says in a distinctive Russian accent as he takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. “And I insist you call me Ilya since we’re going to be working so closely.”
I manage to suppress the shudder. “Of course,” I say, keeping my voice even.
My queasiness suggests I would never have had the stomach to seduce him. Ilya’s touch has as much warmth as the corpse I’d like him to be.
Turning to Barrett, I add, “I have your office ready for your arrival, or would you like to relax in the drawing room after your journey?”
Barrett looks to Ilya to answer. “Drawing room,” the Russian says. “And I’d be pleased if you would join us, Quinn.”
I school my features, keeping my expression neutral. “Certainly. Would you like some refreshments?” It’s pointless directing any more questions to Barrett. It’s clear who’s in charge. “I’m afraid we don’t have a housekeeper, but Ithink I can be trusted to make coffee. And there’s homemade fruitcake somewhere.”
“Just the coffee for now,” he says, his tone a touch less honeyed. I have the feeling I’m not what he was expecting.
As I excuse myself, my heels click against the marble floor. Ilya will hear my retreat, so I force a casual pace while my breath stutters. Ilya Barkov oozes charm like a puss-filled boil.
Reid will be worrying. I’d sent a message to let him know what was happening, not trusting myself to talk to him, and he’d replied to assure me that he was on standby if I needed him. I do need him. I long for his arms around me, or simply to hear his voice, but I’m taking no chances. My burner phone is hidden under my mattress and away from temptation. I was always meant to do this on my own. I’ve got this.
When I enter the drawing room, Barrett and Ilya are sitting at an angle to each other in two stiff-backed armchairs. I place a tray on the low table between them and perch on the edge of the green velvet couch to serve our drinks. Ilya scrutinizes my every move, and I hope he doesn’t notice the meditative breaths I take to stop my hand from shaking as I add sugar and creamer to his coffee.
It’s a relief when I can sit back on the couch with my drink. Ilya doesn’t speak until I bring my coffee cup to my lips.
“Do you trust your staff, Barrett?” he asks casually.
I manage not to choke on my coffee, but I swallow loudly.
“They were all carefully vetted but, as you know, the local security firm I employed were less than satisfactory.”
“On that we can agree.” Ilya turns to me. “It must havebeen very distressing having to deal with a Griffin on the premises.”
My eyes don’t so much as twitch. One particular Griffin has intruded several times now, but there’s only one incident I should acknowledge. My first meeting with Reid. I hold Ilya’s gaze. “Barrett had warned me about the brothers, and I go into every job prepared. The rest of the staff and I dealt with the matter with the minimum of fuss.”
“And the rest of the staff would be…”
“There’s only one other member of staff left. We don’t need more while I’m not in residence,” Barrett says, and I wonder if it’s deliberate that he doesn’t name the two he sent away. “Jason is our gardener. The landscaping has been completed, but we need someone full-time to maintain the gardens. My mother always said the exterior of a property is just as important as the interior, God rest her soul.”
Ilya nods to let Barrett know he’s listening, but his attention stays on me. “I understand Barrett has told you about the sensitive operations we’ll be conducting in Poulton Springs.”
I take another sip of coffee before setting it down on the table. I can’t trust myself to keep the cup from rattling on the saucer. I will my hands and my jaw to relax. “Barrett’s told me as much as I need to know to do my job.”
“Which is?”
“To be his representative on site so that Barrett can claim plausible deniability.”
