Anya looks up at that moment, and our gazes catch. Her face lights up with a smile, and she waves at me. I return her wave, giving her a small nod when she gestures for me to stay put.
I like Anya Balshov a lot. Have since I met her. There's something about her, a natural warmth that draws people in. Maybe that's why she complements Alexei so well. The eldest Balshov brother’s cold exterior can be intimidating sometimes.All the time, actually.
Anya finishes her conversation with the brothers and walks toward me.
“You look lovely, Mireille. Dmitri has good taste.”
“Thank you,” I say, returning her smile. “And thanks for inviting me tonight.”
Anya waves it off, her smile growing bigger as she starts to talk about tonight’s performance at the opera—she’s singing the lead inLa Traviata, and the excitement in her voice is infectious.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Sergei standing a short distance from the brothers, lurking in the shadows like he always does. I suddenly feel the same sense of unease that I did when he opened the door for Dmitri and me earlier.
There's just something off about the guy…
Could it be that I've met him before? But how…?
Just then, he reaches into his pocket, and I watch him take out his phone and raise it to his ear,and that's when I see it: the tattoo crawling across the back of his hand and underneath his shirt cuff.
Then it all comes flooding back.
The memory of my father standing near that van, the man with the same tattoo handing him something small. My stomach knots.
It’s him. The man from the alley.
What’s his connection to my dad?
“Sorry, I need to use the restroom,” I say to Anya with an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back.”
I turn around and head toward the bathroom, keeping my expression neutral. The moment the bathroom door closes behind me, I grip the sink with both hands, taking in a deep breath. I close my eyes, throw my head back, and take another deep breath, but that doesn't silence the questions in my head.
What's Sergei’s business with my dad?
What had they exchanged?
Does it have anything to do with the Balshov's brothers? With Dmitri?
Should I tell Dmitri? No—I can’t. Not until I understand what’s going on. Dad said it was work-related. Maybe Sergei is some kind of informant. Maybe there’s an explanation.
I splash cold water on my wrists, take one last deep breath, and exit the restroom. As I walk down the long corridor, I suddenly notice a half-open door ahead. As I inch closer, I can hear the low murmur of male voices. I mean to keep walking, but then I hear my name.
“Mireille Turner,” Alexei's voice says. “How much longer are you going to keep this going, Dmitri?”
My feet stop on their own. I drift closer.
“I’m close,” Dmitri answers, his voice steady but strained. “Turner trusts his daughter, and she trusts me. If I stay close to her, I can find out what he’s planning.”
The world narrows to that one sentence.
Alexei’s tone sharpens. “Viktor seems to think you're drifting off plan.”
Viktor’s voice follows, half laugh, half disbelief. “He definitely is. Looks like the Turner girl's got him wrapped around her finger. ”
My breath catches.
They’re talking about me.
About using me to get to my dad.
