Adrian.
My ex-colleague from Christie’s.
The man whose operation I exposed six months ago, when I discovered he was using the auction house to launder money for criminal networks across Europe. He lost everything because of me—his job, his reputation, and his carefully constructed legitimate facade.
Now, he’s using Tony to destroy me the same way.
I press one hand against the glass like I can reach through it and… what? Comfort him? Slap him? I don’t even know.
“What did Adrian hire you to do to my sister?” Dmitri asks.
Tony doesn’t even hesitate before he answers this time. “He wanted me to make Sasha fall for me. Get close enough for her to trust me so that I could learn everything about her. Her fears and weaknesses. What would hurt her most. Then, he’d use that information to break her while her family watched.”
The way he describes it makes my chest ache. Like I’m a target. A mark. An objective to be completed.
“And you agreed to this,” Dmitri notes.
“I took his money, yes. Fifty thousand up front, another fifty when the job was done.”
A hundred thousand dollars. That’s what my heart was worth to him.
No. That’s not fair. He’s already admitted that he didn’t go through with it.
But he took the job in the first place.
“Walk me through it,” Dmitri orders. “How were you supposed to approach her?”
Tony adjusts his position in the chair with a wince. The restraints around his wrists must be cutting into his skin by now, but he doesn’t complain. “Adrian provided intelligence on Sasha’s movements. Things like her work schedule and her social routine. He knew she’d be at Alexei’s wedding, so that was my opening. I was supposed to present myself as an American journalist doing a piece on legitimate Russian businesses, someone outside the criminal world who could offer her the distance from the Bratva that she’d sought in London.”
Every word lands like a hammer.
It worked; I bought every bit of it. The charming American with no connection to my family’s world. The man who asked intelligent questions about art instead of violence. Someone who made me feel normal instead of constantly on guard.
“Adrian wanted you to exploit her desire for legitimacy,” Dmitri says.
“Yes. He said Sasha spent years building an identity separate from the Kozlov name, and that she’d be drawn to someone who wasn’t a part of that world.”
“He knows my sister well.”
“He’s obsessed with her,” Tony corrects. “This isn’t just about revenge against your family. This is personal. He wants Sasha to feel the same betrayal she inflicted on him when she exposed his Christie’s operation.”
I knew Adrian was angry when I reported him. He sent me emails for weeks afterward, alternating between begging me to recant my statement and accusing me of hypocrisy for using my family’s reputation to destroy his career while pretending I wanted distance from the criminal world.
I eventually blocked him.
Maybe I should have paid more attention.
“What was your timeline?” Dmitri asks.
“I met Sasha at the wedding six weeks ago. The plan was to establish contact, build trust over four to six weeks, and then Adrian would create a crisis that forced me to choose between protecting her and completing the mission. When I inevitably betrayed her, it would devastate her in front of her family.”
“Poetic,” Dmitri scoffs.
“Adrian’s dramatic. He wanted the betrayal to be public and humiliating. Something Sasha would never recover from.”
My hands are shaking. I curl them into fists and press them against my thighs.
Dmitri leans back against the table. “So, what changed? Why didn’t you follow through?”
