I swallow.
Artyom makes a face. “Don’t look so scared, Nina. You wouldn’t be here with me if we were trying to terrify you. We have other menfor that. I’m the one who makes deals.”
I don’t know why the Bratva would want to make a deal with me. I have nothing to offer them.
Artyom walks around the desk and leans against it right in front of me, his arms folded in front of him. He has the thoughtful yet dangerous walk of a prosecutor in a courtroom drama. Except, I remember with a shiver, in this world, he’s more likely to be the criminal on the stand.
“You must be busy, working late shifts at The Demon while taking an accelerated path through medical school.”
I don’t respond.
“Despite being a young and attractive woman, who surely faces more abuse from drunks when she works until four in the morning.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I wonder what would push someone into that position.”
Fuck this.
Fuck this man, standing here in front of me in his old-money office, wearing a suit that could pay for my med school fees even if it was sold second-hand, thinking that he can lecture me about morality.
“Maybe I need to work to support myself,” I spit at him. “I’m sure that’s not something you’d be familiar with, given that your family is worth billions of dollars.”
He looks pleased with my response. I shrink back into my chair, remembering the golden rule of dealing with the Bratva: don’t give them anything to go on. It was drilled into me by the other non-involved staff as soon as I started workingat The Demon.
“I’m curious….” His tone makes my nerves thrum with anxiety. “Do you know how much a year of tuition at Carson Medical School costs?”
Down to the last dollar. $75,626.
“Go on.”
I shrug my shoulders. I broke before, and I won’t do it again. No response gives these people nothing to play with.
“Say it.”
Nothing makes me more stubborn than someone who wants me to say or do something. I maintain steady eye-contact, willing my face not to flush, and I stare down Artyom Petrov for what feels like an eternity.
My pulse races as he meets my glare. The money truly means nothing to him. He doesn’t even care enough about this to be angry at me, but that doesn’t mean I’m safe.
I see no malice in his eyes, but I know enough about the way the Bratva operates from my years at The Demon not to trust him. He’s beautiful, ridiculously so, but that’s only to conceal the poison under his skin.
There is no forgiveness or mercy from this kind of organization.
That’s why I can’t admit anything.
If I do, I’m dead.
He breaks with a smile. “Fine. You won’t say it. I will. $75,626.”
I try to steady my breathing in the face of his surprisingly warm smile.
“And guess how much of an unexplained drop in turnover we’ve had at The Demon?”
He knows.
Ice-cold certainty blooms in my stomach.
“I’ll hand it to you, you were exact. Not a dollar more than you needed for tuition.”
