Her eyes were blank. Face like stone. Didn't give a shit about the fancy spreads on the table, the marble floors, or the maids tiptoeing around with their polite bullshit. Nothing.
This zombie act? It pissed me off way more than her yelling or fighting back. I'd take her screaming in my face, those pretty brown eyes blazing at me. At least that meant she felt something. At least it meant I could still get under her skin.
Through the hidden cams and mics, I watched clear as day as Sofia got led in. Fake-ass smile plastered on her face, all cautious and sweet.
"Oh, my sweet Noelle..." She hustled over to the couch, arms out for a hug like she gave a damn.
Noelle's body went rigid—just a twitch, but I caught it. She turned her head away, dodging the embrace. Her voice came out flat, scraped raw. "Mom."
Sofia's smile slipped for a split second, that awkward flash, but she slapped it back on like nothing. Sat down, grabbed Noelle's hand, and launched into the same tired crap. "Mr. Morozov's a big shot, be a good girl, keep the husband happy."
I snorted, took a pull from my vodka. Lame as hell. Trying to school her daughter on sucking up to men, like that'd buy her a comfy spot in this high-society cage? What a joke.
Noelle's worth wasn't in playing nice with anybody. It was in her—just her. That goddamn light she carried.
I was about to kill the feed when Sofia made this little move that froze me solid.
She was yapping away, but one hand "accidentally" patted Noelle's wool skirt pocket. And in that split-second lift-off? She slipped something black and flat right in there. Quick as a snake.
My glass hung in midair.
The balls on her. How the fuck did she know Noelle was cut off from the world? Who gave her that burner phone to smuggle in?
One answer hit me like a brick: Noelle.
Had to be her. She'd pulled off this three-day corpse routine to drop my guard, reached out somehow, and roped Mom in to play delivery girl.
Well played. Really clever.
I set the glass down. The cold burn slid down my throat, but it lit a fire in my chest that scorched everything else away. Thought I'd clipped her wings, and she'd stay put. Bullshit. She was still scheming to bolt—right under my nose, with this amateur-hour con.
Dmitri ghosted into the study doorway without a sound. "Boss?"
"Get the car ready." I stood, straightened my cuffs, kept my voice even. "Taking Noelle out shopping. Something she'll like."
Dmitri's eyes flickered—surprise, but he didn't push. Just nodded. "Yes, sir."
By the time I hit the bedroom, Sofia was long gone. But her cheap-ass perfume lingered like a bad memory.
I stepped up to Noelle, my shadow swallowing her whole.
"Bored in here?" My tone was calm. Too calm.
She lifted her head slowly, eyes still dead, just staring through me like I was a ghost.
"Get yourself together. You're allowed to go out." I watched her face close—every twitch, every micro-shift.
There it was: a quick spark deep in those eyes. Shock. Maybe a hint of panic. Gone in a blink, buried under the blank mask again.
"Don't wanna?" I prodded.
She hung there for a beat, then mumbled, "Whatever you say."
Downtown was a zoo—horns blaring, crowds shoving. Noelle stepped out of the car all stiff and jumpy, yanking her coat tight around her. Eyes darting everywhere, like she was hunting or hiding from something.
Dmitri and I hung back in a plain black sedan, one-way glass giving us the full show. She paused at a stall hawking handmade pottery, fingers tracing the rim of some iris-flower mug. Lost in it, almost.
"Want me closer, boss?" Dmitri murmured.
