“I haven’t forgotten.”
“Then prove it. Tell me something useful about Sasha.”
My stomach turns at the way he says her name like he owns it. Like she’s a possession he’s been denied. Something primal and dangerous stirs in my chest. She’s mine. The thought comesunbidden and possessive in a way I’ve never felt about anyone. And this pathetic excuse for a man thinks he has any claim to her.
“She’s cautious. Doesn’t trust easily. Her brothers trained her well.”
“I know all of that. I knew her in London, remember?” Adrian pauses, and I can almost hear him leaning forward, hungry for details. “How deeply does she trust you?”
The question makes bile rise in my throat. Five minutes ago, I was inside her. She was gasping my name, digging her nails into my back, and trembling in my arms. Her body was warm and willing beneath mine, and she gave herself to me without reservation.
And now, I’m supposed to report on that to the man who wants to destroy her.
“She’s starting to trust me,” I reply with a sigh, “but she’s suspicious by nature. It takes time.”
“Time is something we’re running short on. I need actionable intelligence, Tony. Not vague assessments.”
“What kind of intelligence?”
“The personal kind. What’s she afraid of? What would break her? What does she care about more than anything?” Adrian’s voice drops to something that sounds almost intimate, and it makes my skin crawl. “I want to know every weakness. Every soft spot. Every place I can press to make her crumble.”
I think about Sasha’s face when she talked about leaving her brothers for London, and the guilt that she still carries with herevery day. The fear that she abandoned them when they needed her most.
I think about her nightmares and the way she described Dmitri sitting with her as a child, never making her feel weak for being scared. How she still struggles to feel capable in her brothers’ eyes.
I think about her passion for art, and how it’s the one thing that’s entirely hers. The one piece of identity she built outside her family’s shadow. How her whole face transforms when she talks about authentication and seeing truths that others miss.
Adrian wants me to hand him all of that. Package up the things that make Sasha human and deliver them like weapons for him to wield against her.
“She cares about her work,” I offer instead. “It’s important to her sense of independence.”
“I already know that. Tell me something I can use.”
“She’s protective of her family. Would do anything for her brothers.”
“Obvious. Try again.”
I’m running out of deflections, and Adrian knows I’m holding back. I can hear it in the impatience creeping into his voice.
“These things take time,” I repeat. “You can’t rush trust.”
“You slept with her.” It’s not a question. “Don’t bother denying it. I have eyes everywhere, Tony. I know you just fucked her on that couch.”
My gaze snaps to the smoke detector in the corner, then the vent, then the cheap lamp on the end table—suddenly every object is a suspect.
The confirmation that he’s been watching makes my blood run cold. Then hot. Rage floods through me, violent and consuming. He watched us. Had someone watching while I was inside her, while she was vulnerable and exposed. But how?
Are there cameras in the safehouse? Is someone on his payroll reporting my movements? Either way, there’s no privacy and no space that Adrian can’t reach. Every moment I’ve shared with Sasha has been observed, catalogued, and reported back to her enemy.
When this is over, I will find whoever’s been watching. And I’m going to make them regret ever taking Adrian’s money.
“Physical intimacy doesn’t equal emotional vulnerability,” I hate how clinical the words sound. “She keeps walls up, even during sex.”
“Then tear them down, brick by fucking brick. Make her need you. Make her confide in you.” His voice goes hard as steel. “I didn’t hire you to play house with her. I hired you to gather intelligence that will help me destroy her.”
“What do you plan to do with this information?”
“That’s not your concern.”
