Mila jumps up from where she was on the floor.
"Uncle Bogdan! Uncle Bogdan's here!"
She throws herself at a man I recognize from the scene outside the coffee shop. The man with the cold eyes and calculating smile. Up close, he's larger than I remembered. Like a massive box with arms.
"Little princess!" Bogdan catches Mila and spins her around, his harsh features softening into genuine affection. "Have you been good for Papa?"
"The best! We have a visitor—her name is Hannah, and she has the prettiest hair!"
I watch as this man who looks like he could break someone in half melts under the attention of a seven-year-old girl.
"Does she now?" Bogdan's eyes find mine. I suppress a shiver. There's something calculating in his gaze, something that makes me want to step closer to Dante. "We should meet this mysterious visitor."
"Bogdan," Dante says, his voice carefully neutral. "I thought we were meeting later.”
"Family business couldn't wait." Bogdan sets Mila down but keeps hold of her hand. "Besides, I wanted to formally meet your house guest.”
The way he says 'guest' makes it clear he knows exactly what my situation is. I wonder what he thinks about Dante keeping me here. Does he approve? Is the voice of reason?
No.
There was something in his eyes. Dante was a predator but Bogdan…it felt different.
"Hannah, this is my cousin Bogdan," Dante says. "Bogdan, Hannah Quinn."
I force myself to step forward and offer my hand. "Nice to meet you."
Bogdan's handshake is firm, but when he smiles at me, something cold slithers down my spine. The expression doesn't reach his eyes.
Then Mila tugs on his sleeve, demanding his attention. His smile transforms into something genuine. He scoops her up again, spinning her until she squeals with laughter. I see genuine warmth in his interaction with her.
Maybe I'm being paranoid. Maybe the stress of the situation is making me see threats where none exist.
I watch Bogdan play with Mila, making her giggle with silly faces and exaggerated voices. I can't shake the feeling that something is very wrong. He's too smooth, too charming, too quick to shift between calculating assessment and jovial uncle.
"Papa, can Uncle Bogdan stay for dinner?" Mila asks.
"If he wants to," Dante says, though I catch the tension in his voice.
"Another time, little princess," Bogdan says, setting her down gently. "Uncle has work to do. But I promise to visit again soon."
Mila pouts but accepts the promise, hugging his legs before running back toward her little setup on the floor. "I'm going to finish my drawing!"
When she's out of earshot, the atmosphere changes. The warmth disappears from Bogdan's expression, replaced by business-like focus.
"We need to talk," he tells Dante.
"Later."
"Now."
The single word carries enough weight to make Dante nod. He looks at me. “Stay.”
“I’m not a dog.”
"No," Bogdan says, his smile sharp as a blade. "You're collateral. Which means you go where you're told."
The casual cruelty in his tone makes my blood boil, but before I can respond, Dante steps between us.
