The café where Inessa and I decide to meet is situated high above the city, the windows stretch from floor to ceiling,reflecting the skyline in fractured shards. It was some bullshit reasoning about “clearing the air” regarding Damian.
As if I would ever fucking do that.
Every table looks staged for a magazine cover. The air smells like vanilla bean and imported citrus. Soft jazz curls through the space like smoke.
I sit near the window, the sunlight drawing long, sharp shadows across the marble floor. My heart beats too quickly and my palms are cold.
You asked for this, Harper; now there’s no going back.
Across the earpiece, Kiro murmurs, “Target incoming. Black sedan. Flanked by two.”
Of course she wouldn’t come alone.
Inessa enters the café with that same perfect posture, perfect hair, perfect indifference. Confidence coats her like lacquer. Her eyes land on me, and a smile blooms slow and warm and lethal.
“Harper,” she says, gliding toward my table. “I’m so glad you agreed to meet. I thought it was time we… cleared misunderstandings.”
The wordmisunderstandingstastes like poison on her tongue. I stand, because I won’t give her the satisfaction of looking down at me.
“Inessa.”
She sits without asking permission, crossing her legs with elegant precision. She looks at me like a jeweler examining a gemstone for cracks.
“Damian must be relieved you’re handling this,” she says lightly. “You always were… diligent.”
The implication threads through her tone like a hidden wire. I keep my voice level.
“I didn’t come here for small talk.”
“Of course not.” Her eyes gleam. “You never do.”
I slide a small device onto the table. It’s a routing map, marked with her signature.
Her smile widens, and she has the gall to not even plead her case. No surprise in those beady eyes of hers.
“So,” she says, folding her hands, “you found it.” She says it all calm and pleased, like this is a game she’s already won. She leans in as she adds, “Anton always said you were bright. Not bright enough, perhaps. But bright.”
She revels in the way my breath stutters, even if it’s momentary.
“Inessa,” I say carefully, “this is espionage. Treason. You understand what this means.”
“What it means,” she says with a slow, almost affectionate tone, “is that Anton keeps his promises. Power, Harper. Real power. Not whatever scraps come with being someone’s strategic wife.”
Her smile sharpens.
“You think love protects you? Love is the most efficient leash ever invented.”
My hands go cold.
She tilts her head. “He’ll break Damian. And you, if you stay in his way. But you are clever. You can still choose the winning side.”
I inhale, steady, controlled. In my ear, there’s a soft, urgent whisper from Kiro.
“Harper. Move. Now. We have incoming on all sides—Anton’s men.”
I freeze. She sits back, serene, almost radiant.
She knew. The fucking bitch, of course she knew I wouldn’t come here to talk about Damian.
