The cameras flashed blindingly as we arrived. Roman moved with practiced ease, his authority palpable. He kept a proprietary hand on my lower back, a clear message to the world… She is mine. Look, but don’t touch.
I hated the performance, but I was professional. I smiled flawlessly for the press, waving to the handful of society figures and local officials. I shook hands, offering a brief, demure response to questions about the excitement of my new life.
Inside, I seethed. Every perfect photograph, every shared smile, was another lie cementing his narrative. I know he’s spinning the narrative to his advantage, painting my presence and the fusion of our families as a partnership between our foundations, benefiting the commuting. He was neutralizing the kidnapping rumors by forcing a public debut of our domestic bliss.
As soon as we were back in the armored black car, sealed off from the cameras and the applause, the masks shattered.
“You’re using me as a PR shield,” I snapped, yanking the glove off my hand and throwing it onto the plush leather seat. The performance had exhausted me. “It won’t last. People will see through you.”
Roman leaned back, entirely unruffled, watching the city blur past the window.
His mouth curled into a cold half-smile. It was the most honest expression I had seen all day, a pure display of dangerous calculation.
“Then play your part better,” he countered, his voice smooth and lethally quiet. “My foundations are cleaner than your father’s ever were. If you don’t like my narrative, there’sonly one way to end this quickly. Or give me what I want, the evidence of your father left you.”
My eyes flashed, hot with indignation and fear. He was using the intimacy of the night, the public spectacle of the day, all to corner me into giving up my one advantage.
“I don’t have anything,” I said, the lie now coming easily, fiercely. “And if I did, I wouldn’t hand it to you.”
Chapter Nine
Roman’s POV
The sky was a deep shade of blue when I arrived at the Upper West Side club. A few people lined up on the pavement to gain entrance. Their faces were covered in desperation, and the noise that came from inside made me wonder how I'd cope.
Nonetheless, I walked across the empty lot, and the guard's hand tried to stop me. In less than a second, he pulled his hand back and apologized. A lady to my left stretched her hand towards me and asked me to let her in. She was blonde and somewhat slim. Her teeth were white, and her gown looked a little bit classy.
“Come,” I said, and the guard let her pass.
“Thank you,” she smiled. I didn't take her gratitude as much of anything, but I didn't want her around me either.
“Enjoy your night,” I said, and we both went our separate ways.
The speakers were loud, blasting with hip-hop songs, the lights flashed in radiant colors, hands were lifted up in the air, and a few strippers raised bottles of wine in the air with both hands, while they walked across the hall. It was a good sight, but I began to get hot, so I shifted my black tie and loosened the top button of my white shirt.
Even in the dim light, it was hard not to notice the manner in which most of the ladies checked me out. I pretended not to care about them, and I didn't fake a smile. A bright red light flashed at the corner of my eye, and I saw two ladies strip off their net gowns right before they grabbed the pole. I shifted my gaze from them and turned to the left side of the room. Two men in black suits sat on the lounge sofa, each sticking money into the thong of the stripper giving them a lap dance. One of the men slapped the stripper across the butt, and the sound echoedaround him. Well…if she was paid nicely, that wasn't something for her to take too personally, I thought.
I made my way to one of our private rooms in the club.
“I've been waiting,” Viktor said as he poured some wine into a glass.
“Yeah, I got here as fast as I could,” I answered. He moved his hand to the sofa, and I knew it meant that I should come sit beside him.
I walked around the glass table, loosened my necktie again, and sat with a sigh.
“Listen, Roman. Arkady's disappearance has emboldened rival factions in Brighton Beach and Staten Island,” he said with his voice low, but loud enough to hear through the noise.
“So what do you think we should do?” I asked. Viktor took a sip of his wine, set it down on the table, and moved his gaze towards me.
“If the Markov lady is innocent, use her. If she's not, break her. But no matter what, do your best to get the vital information you need about Markov. Okay?”
“Okay,” I replied, and his hand squeezed my right shoulder before he gave it a good pat.
“Have some wine,” Viktor offered. It was hard to read his facial expression, but I shook my head and said, “I'm fine, thanks.”
I tried to wrap my mind around what Viktor said. Liza's dangerous aura was one of the many things that made her desirable. She was a smart woman. One who seemed to be too brilliant to fool, but that wasn't the problem. The problem I had was how long I would have to keep up with her innocence before she got to me. And if she didn't open up, was I ready to break her? I sat thinking for a while. Suddenly, the wine didn't look like such a bad option, so I poured myself a glass and drank it in one go.
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