Focus, woman, focus.
I’d have to be on my toes all night. Ready to assist my partner at the very first sign of trouble. As charming and magnetic as Wallace was, he was usedto schmoozing good ol’ boys who had to dress up in sheets to get their tiny peckers hard, and Sasha’s crowd was anything but that. Above everything I needed to make sure Wallace and I were together at all times. He’d be most vulnerable when on his own. Like a wounded, but super handsome gazelle on the African savannah. Left behind by the herd only to end up as lion fodder.
Cameron
SASHA’S DRIVER ARRIVED at Tess’s St. Petersburg apartment at 9:17.
“Two minutes late. I thought you said, Sasha was punctual,” I jokingly whispered in Tess’s ear as we made our way to the curb.
“I’ve seen men fired, or worse, for less,” Tess replied, and I believed her.
We spent the car ride chatting while in character for the benefit of our driver and the listening devices that were surely installed inside the car. From this point on we had to assume we were being listened to and watched at all times.
“I just thought the Richter piece should have sold for more, that’s all,” I said.
“And you’re wrong, per usual, on the subject,” she countered.
“What do you mean?”
“You overvalue Gehard Richter’s abstract paintings because of how much his work means to you.”
“Overvalue? How is such a thing even possible?” I argued. “You know what? It’s not possible. It’s not humanly possible to overvalue Gehard Richter.”
Tess raised her palm towards me. “See, there you go.”
“What? There you go, what? What did I say?”
“You said it was impossible to overvalueRichter. You didn’t say his abstract paintings. You referenced the man himself. Admit it. You’re a Gehard Richter fan boy.”
“I have a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in both Fine Arts and Art History. I’m not a fanboy,” I protested.
Tess crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you say,fanboy.”
God, she was sexy. I’d honestly never been more attracted to a woman than I was to Tess. Not only physically, but mentally. We were able to banter and ad-lib while in character effortlessly. Almost telepathically. I’d never experienced anything quite like it and hoped our connection would help sell our cover story. I just had to stay focused and keep my stallion in the barn until the mission was over. Any distraction from the mission could cost us both our lives and I could never forgive myself if anything happened to Tess on my watch.
After a thirty-minute drive, we arrived at the residence of Sasha Fedya, or rather we arrived at thegatesof the residence of Sasha Fedya. I’m nottalking about those rinky-fuckin’-dink six-foot wrought iron things we install outside of suburban gated communities either. I’m talking about a ten-foot iron structure. The kind of gate that said, ‘stay the fuck out’ and meant it. After being buzzed in by one of Sasha’s many security guards we made our way up a long and winding driveway, ending mere feet away from the main entrance.
After some quick math in my head, I calculated we were now approximately twelve miles from the nearest main road. At an average walking speed of three miles an hour, over rough, unfamiliar terrain, in the dark, it would take us well over three hours just to reach the road, let alone civilization. Plus, with his resources, Fedya could have security checkpoints or booby traps set up along the way. Hell, he could have both. He could have trained goddamned bears with laser-guided submachine guns for all I knew.
“Wow, sure is private,” I said, giving Tess’s hand a squeeze that I hope conveyed,‘Why the fuck didn’t you warn me that we’d be completely isolated from the rest of the known world?’
The driver opened our door to reveal Sasha Fedya himself, waiting to greet us with open arms. Speaking of arms, there were two men with very largearms, both of whom I assumed were alsoarmed, standing directly to the left and right of him.
“Eleanor, you look beautiful as always,” Sasha said, giving ‘my fiancée’ a kiss on the check before turning his attention to me. “You must be Noah,” he said as he shook my hand. “Welcome to my home.”
I released his hand, fighting the urge to wipe mine on my pant leg. “Thank you for the invitation. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. Eleanor has talked so much about you, I feel like I know you already.”
“Well, I have a few bottles of 1996 Krug Clos d’Ambonnay Blanc de Noirs Champagne chilling as we speak, so I’m sure we’ll get to know each other even better throughout the evening.”
Sasha’s English was perfect and his Russian accent noticeably light.
“I’m a cheap date,” I said. “You won’t have to open many bottles. I’m a notorious lightweight.”
Of course, I was lying. I was raised around bikers and builders and could more than handle my shit, but by saying this, I hoped Sasha would forgive me if I nursed a single glass all evening. I wanted to stay as sharp as possible and even with my tolerance, good champagne had a way of sneaking up on me.
Sasha invited us to come inside, and it was only then I realized that we were his only guests.
Tess must have surmised the same. “Are we the first to arrive?” she asked, casually.
