“Everything's in place, then?”
I freeze. I know that voice. It's Alex.
“She’s eating out of our hands,” Alex says, and I freeze in panic.
“I want this done cleanly with no mistakes this time, you hear me?” Viktor Zakharov hisses
Just hearing his voice again sends a chill down my spine, reminding me of all the ways he said he could hurt me.
I press myself against the wall, hardly daring to breathe as I begin to understand what’s happening here. Viktor and Alex are working together. This whole time, my “big client” has been spying on me, reporting back to the very people who want me dead.
God damn it.
“And you're sure she suspects nothing?” Viktor asks.
“Completely clueless,” Alex replies. “She's been feeding me everything about her marketing plans, her client list, and even mentioned she's rebuilding her savings. It's all in my report.”
“Good. She may have chosen the Yuris for now, but we'll make her regret that decision soon enough.”
I back away slowly, terrified they'll hear me. My heart pounds so loudly I'm scared they might hear me.
Once I reach the main street, I rush back into the café, but Dmitri isn’t there. In a panic, I run around the back and lock myself in the bathroom.
Chapter 21 - Valentin
“Is this how I’ve told you I wanted the layout?” I yell at the foreman at one of our construction sites.
The poor man pales. “Sorry, boss.”
“Just fix it,” I sigh and turn away, looking out into the distance, trying to shut out the voice of the machines in the background. That proves to be a mistake, because the minute I seek silence, I find another kind of noise.
One of fear and panic from when I found Gela missing. I’m still fuming, finding it harder to concentrate after our little fight on the phone. All I ask for is to be kept informed of her whereabouts, so if anything happens, I know where to look.
I’m spiraling into mental arguments with an imaginary Gela when my phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket, and immediately pick up when I see it’s Gela calling.
“Hello?”
Even if I’m mad, I’ll always pick up.
“Valentin?” She sounds panicked as hell. “I need help.”
“Where are you?” Everything fades away, except for the singular fact that she’s in trouble and I’m not next to her.
“At Caffè Luna,” she whispers like she’s hiding somewhere. “I'm locked in the bathroom. I can't find Dmitri. His phone's unreachable.”
“What happened?” My heart races with fear, and I head for the elevator down, searching for my keys in my pocket.
“I…my client is working with Viktor Zakharov. I overheard them talking outside the café.” Her voice breaks, and I hear her sob. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t know.”
My vision blurs with rage. “This isn’t on you, Gela. You hear me? Tell me, do you think they’re inside the café?”
“I don’t think so,” she says weakly.
“Stay where you are. Don't open that door for anyone but me. I'm coming.”
“Please hurry.”
I sprint to my car and break every traffic law on the fifteen-minute drive downtown. On the way over, I call Dmitri three times, but it turns out, Gela’s right. His phone is unreachable.
