His hitman, Sver, the man who pulled the trigger and changed my fate, his death warrant has been signed as well.
“Because if that’s your plan, you don’t need to keep me prisoner. I’ll willingly stay and help you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Win
I don’t knowhow many seconds pass as I consider the woman before me. She began this conversation by telling me she had a score to settle.
But I struggle to trust her words. My father was a cheating, selfish, abusive bastard and I wouldn’t have been able to kill him.
“My given name is Winston, but my family calls me, Win.”
Her brows notch. “Fitting.”
I don’t respond. I’m not looking for an opinion, only a deepening of this conversation. All the cards are mine and if Katarina wants to change the circumstances, she’s going to have to do more than offer some flimsy assertion.
“I don’t know about that, but I do make it my business to end up in the winner’s circle.”
Katarina studies me as she cocks her head to the side. “I’m certain you do.”
“And your certainty matters because?”
She huffs out the smallest breath. I’ve been told I’m abrasive. I am.
I’ve been told by most women that my edges are…cutting. They are.
But Katarina doesn’t look offended. She doesn’t look hurt. Instead, her eyes do the smallest roll up, like she finds this part of our conversation tiresome. “I’ve grown up surrounded by criminals, politicians, heads of state, men afflicted with every sort of depravity you can imagine, and I can always spot a winner. Not a winner today, not even the winner of the year. I can see the man who has the control, the intelligence, the willpower to win.”
“I’m listening.”
She waves her hand. “My fatheralmosthas it all, but not quite.”
This is getting interesting. “What does he lack?”
She shakes her head, her tongue clucking softly against the back of her teeth.
Damn. The woman has just claimed her first advantage. I no longer hold them all. “And why should I believe that you would help me?”
It’s a valid question and this is clearly a negotiation.
Which, in and of itself, is impressive.
Katarina has remained cool, calm, and collected in the face of my hard edges and against the odds stacked in my favor. Men much more powerful than her crumble in my presence.
“I know that your brothers told you about the night Dimitri wrestled us from our father’s grip. How my father held a gun to my sister’s head?”
There is that. And it probably should be enough information. But I’m not a man who leaves anything to chance. And I’m not afraid to offend. “I’ll need more than that.”
“You’ll have to take my word?—”
“No.” It comes out harsh and jagged. But my patience is wearing thin. This is the moment most women shrink. Men too. I’m direct. Aggressive.
I don’t need Katarina, even if she does hold a few scraps of valuable knowledge. If she wants to be something other than a prisoner, this is her parole hearing, and she is beholden to prove her worth to me.
I see her wince, her shoulders curling the slightest bit.
She starts to answer, stops, then tries again, her hands splaying out, “Try to understand,” she begins, spreading her hands wide. The back of her hand catches my phone, knocking it off the surface. It bounces on the carpet, stopping in the aisle.
