“You must be a wild one then,” Larisa added amidst chuckles.
“So I’m told.”
“That’s why you two are perfect for each other,” Anton said to me. “Nik is a controlling son of a bitch who’s impossible to deal with. A stubborn and wild woman is exactly what he needs in his life right now.”
The others laughed. I did too.
“You’re right,” I said. “He really is controlling.Andimpossible to deal with.”
“Can you not talk about me like I’m not sitting right here?” Nik said, relaxed in his chair.
A scattered chuckle rose at the table, blending with the clinking of cutlery. As silence fell, Nik and I locked eyes, but neither of us said a word. My heart felt lighter, and the tension in my shoulders had evaporated into the air.
Honestly, I haven't had this much fun in a long time. Before now, I thought there was nothing good about these Mafia people. I believed they were evil and could only be that way.
Was I wrong? Or was all of this just an act to fool me?
I was so confused.
“Excuse me, I, uh…I need to powder my face—I’ve laughed so hard,” I said, beaming at them as I rose to my feet. “Can you point me toward the female restroom?” I asked Larisa.
“Yeah. Down the hall, first door on your left,” she answered, gesturing toward the direction.
“Thank you.” I left my purse on the table and walked away.
I could feel his gaze on me as I walked away, my heels clicking against the polished marble floor. I rounded a corner down the hallway, completely out of his sight.
I’d barely taken two steps forward when I spotted a phone sitting on a nearby table. The screen was still alive, suggesting the owner might have just dropped it seconds ago and would return soon to pick it up.
My eyes narrowed, realizing this was my first and probably last opportunity to have access to the outside world. I glanced around to be sure that no one was watching. And when the coast was clear, I quickly snatched it off the table, my pace quickening as I rushed over to the restroom.
I swiped the screen to keep it awake, barged into the restroom, and locked myself in a stall. My fingers rattled across the keyboard as I typed the director’s number. I placed the phone to my ear and listened to it ring on the other end.
“Voss,” she answered, her voice curt on the other end.
“Director, it’s me,” I whispered.
She paused for a moment. “Blake?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
“Oh, my God! You’re alive—we were worried they got you,” she said, her tone laced with relief.
“I am, but it’s a long story, and I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you right now, but I’ve never gotten this close to breaking the case. He’s starting to trust me now—well, it’s still a work in progress, but he is.”
“I’m confused. Who are you talking about?”
“Nikolai Tarasov.”
Voss was silent for a second.
“The leader of the Tarasov Bratva?”
“Yes, him.”
