"I know someone is here," he continued, his voice rumbling through the room like distant thunder. "Your heartbeat gives you away."
Wait, what? Normal humans don't hear heartbeats. Either this guy was bluffing or I'd stumbled into something even weirder than my own electronic abilities.
The shoes moved further into the room, circling the desk with predatory patience. I pressed myself against the wood panel at my back, wishing I could phase through solid objects. That would be a useful upgrade to my current skill set.
Before he could complete his circuit of the desk, rapid footsteps approached in the hallway, followed by urgent whispers. The shoes paused, then turned toward the door.
"Mr. Aleksandrovich," came a breathless voice – the maître d' from downstairs. "My deepest apologies for the interruption, but we have a situation."
Mr. Aleksandrovich? I'd obviously hidden in the owner's office. Of course I had. My luck was working at peak performance tonight.
"What kind of situation requires my personal attention, Dmitri?" Aleksandrovich's tone suggested this better be good or someone would be updating their resume.
"Two men entered the restaurant searching for another man," the maître d' explained, his voice lowered. "They claim he's a thief who stole from them, but they appear... unsavory. They're being quite insistent and making the guests uncomfortable."
"Did they provide a description of this man?"
I winced. Here it comes.
"Yes, sir. Young, blond hair, green eyes. They said he would appear disheveled, perhaps in his twenties."
A pause hung in the air, heavy with consideration. I could almost feel Aleksandrovich's gaze sweeping the room.
"And they believe this man might be in my restaurant?" His voice had dropped even lower.
"They're very insistent, sir. They mentioned checking the back areas, the kitchens. I refused, of course, without your authorization."
"Good. Return downstairs and inform our visitors that I will speak with them shortly." The command was soft but left no room for argument. "Have Ivan and Sergei ensure they remain in the foyer."
"Yes, Mr. Aleksandrovich."
The maître d's footsteps retreated down the hall. The office door closed with a soft click, and I found myself alone with the owner of both the restaurant and, apparently, the floor I'd invaded.
I needed an exit strategy.
Fast.
From my hiding place, I spotted a phone on the desk above me. If I could trigger it, create another distraction...
I reached out with my ability, searching for the device's electronic signature, but before I could connect with it, the desk chair was suddenly pulled away. I found myself staring up at the man I'd been hiding from.
Nikolai Aleksandrovich was not what I expected. Tall and broad-shouldered, yes – that much I had guessed from his silhouette. But his face was a study in controlled power. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw dusted with perfectly maintained stubble, and eyes that were surprisingly light against his olive complexion. Cold, assessing eyes that seemed to see straight through my hastily constructed facade.
He didn't look surprised to find me there. That was perhaps the most unsettling thing of all.
"Found your missing man, I presume," he said, though not to me. It was a statement to himself, an acknowledgment of a puzzle piece clicking into place.
I scrambled backward until I hit the wall, weighing my options. The window was too far. The door was behind him. And something told me this man moved faster than he appeared.
"I can explain," I said, though I had no idea what explanation would satisfy a man who looked like he ate excuses for breakfast.
"I'm certain you can," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "Most trespassers have fascinating stories." His accent grew more pronounced when he was annoyed.
Noted for future reference.
Assuming I had a future.
"Those men downstairs?" I said, deciding honesty might be my best play. "They kidnapped me. I escaped. End of story."
