Back in the suite, the next few hours seemed to drag. Edge thought about making use of the big bed in the other room, but the mission kept intruding. He could tell Skye felt the same.
They dressed down a little for the evening. Edge chose a gray tweed sport coat and black jeans while Skye wore a white jumpsuit with wide legs and a halter top. His eyebrows shot up when she reached into the left pocket, which apparently wasn’t stitched at the bottom, and pulled her little pistol from the holster strapped to her thigh.
Edge grinned. “Very clever, sweetheart. You never cease to amaze me.”
“We pull this off, I promise I’ll amaze you even more when we get back to the room tonight.”
His mouth went dry at the hot promise in those sea-green eyes. He didn’t dare touch her. “Work first,” he said gruffly. “Then we celebrate.”
Skye just smiled.
They left for the Four Winds in the Bellagio limo. He was wearing his shoulder holster under his sport coat, figuring Petrov would expect it. The place was packed when they arrived five minutes early, showing the Russian respect. Dutch waited in the entry, his red hair and short red beard freshly trimmed.
“Weapons,” Dutch demanded. Edge reached inside his coat, pulled out the Beretta, and handed it over. Dutch flicked a glance at Skye, but she ignored him. Being a typical male, he assumed she would defer her protection to the man she was with.
Big mistake, Edge thought.
Dutch led them up to Petrov’s private table on the third tier, the top level of the dining room. There was extra room on each side of the table so their conversation couldn’t be overheard, and the location provided a view of the dining room, bar, and dance floor below.
Petrov sat at the head of the table. He rose at their approach. “Good of you to come.” The greeting held a hint of sarcasm. He turned to the woman seated to his right. “This is Sasha. She will be joining us.”
Up close, she was in her early thirties, her skin nearly as pale as her gleaming platinum hair. A fuchsia dress, cut low in front and covered with silver spangles, displayed her voluptuous cleavage. Edge caught a glimpse of exposed thigh beneath the table, so it was a short skirt tonight.
Petrov finished the introductions. Edge seated Skye, then took a seat himself. They made light conversation until the waiter arrived with an ice bucket and champagne, Cristal, which the server opened and poured into tall crystal flutes.
Petrov lifted his glass and took a sip. “Six hundred a bottle and worth every dime.” He smiled at the woman beside him. “The rosé is Sasha’s favorite.”
The blonde took a sip and made a little sound of pleasure in her throat. “Thank you, darlink.” Edge had noticed the Russian accent earlier. It definitely sounded real. He figured Petrov wouldn’t settle for a fraud, not even one who gave a better-than-average blow job.
They all sipped their champagne, which Edge had to admit was first class. Beluga caviar was brought out and served to enjoy with the bubbly. Edge wasn’t a connoisseur, not even really fond of the stuff, but he figured it was probably as extravagantly expensive as the liquor.
Petrov’s black eyes went to Skye, slid over the creamy swells of her breasts. He practically licked his lips. “Do you like it?”
Edge clenched his jaw. He noticed Sasha hadn’t missed Petrov’s interest either. Her tight lips said she wasn’t pleased.
“You have very good taste in champagne,” Skye said. “And the caviar is exquisite.”
“Thank you.” He set his crystal flute on the table. “First, we eat. Then we talk business.”
Orders were taken. Skye chose duck a l’orange, while Edge selected a peppercorn filet mignon. The salad was chosen by Petrov: cranberry, goat cheese, and pistachio. Every time Petrov looked at Skye, Edge’s appetite waned.
Their meals arrived. Like everything else, the food was extraordinary. Not surprising, Edge thought, considering the possible consequences if the staff failed to come up to Petrov’s exacting standards
Finally, dessert was served.
“Ptichye Moloko,” Petrov announced, a Russian cake of some kind. Lifting his fork, he took a bite, groaned in ecstasy, and waved the fork to indicate they should try it. Light, soufflé-like layers of custard and sponge cake were covered with a creamy chocolate sauce and, like everything else, tasted delicious.
“This is amazing,” Skye said, taking another bite.
Petrov seemed pleased. “It is a personal favorite.”
Thick black coffee arrived in gold-rimmed, white porcelain cups. The waiter cleared the dessert plates, then disappeared.
Petrov sat forward in his chair, his onyx eyes fixed on Edge. “Now we get down to business.” Dutch appeared in the shadows a few feet behind him, legs braced apart, hands crossed in front of him in bodyguard mode. “So you wish to go to work for me.”
Time to play the game. A quick glance at Skye said she was equally prepared for whatever came next.
“We have skills to offer that would benefit your organization,” Edge said.
