But Fiona’s not like the rest of them. She’s dangerous in her own way—an empire-builder who doesn’t need blood or bullets to conquer. I have to give it to her. She’s a fucking genius when it comes to business. Those gold bars? She had them melted down, turned into bracelets, necklaces, earrings—carefully designed and scattered across her hundred stores in the U.S., sold as “exclusive collections.” Every piece washed clean, profits sky-high.
No one launders better than Fiona.
“Gold doesn’t disappear,” I mutter, walking alongside her. “You had it melted. The jewelry is ready.”
“Leonid,” she says smoothly, gesturing toward a server carrying a tray of crystal tumblers filled with amber liquid. She plucks one, swirling the drink with practiced ease before holding it out to me. “Relax. You’ll get your answers. But first, enjoy the moment. This isn’t some second-rate deal we’re closing here. It’s a legacy.”
I take the glass, the scent of aged scotch cutting through the tension in the air. Probably something rare and absurdly expensive. Fiona doesn’t do cheap.
She clinks her own glass lightly against mine, her gaze steady. “To partnerships,” she says, her voice rich and commanding. “And to staying untouchable.”
I down the scotch in one go, the burn sharp and clean. She smiles approvingly, sipping hers more leisurely.
“Better?” she asks, arching an eyebrow.
“No,” I reply flatly, setting the glass back on a passing tray. “The goods, Fiona. Now.”
Her lips curl, not in offense, but in amusement. She tilts her head slightly, her gold earrings sway. “You’re lucky I like you, Leonid. Anyone else would already be out the door for talking to me like that.”
“That’s what we’re talking about,” I tease, the corner of my mouth tugging up just enough. “You know you’re sexy when you talk business.”
She lets out a low, throaty laugh, rolling her eyes as her fingers trail slowly up to her collarbone, tapping lightly in a rhythm that matches her smirk. “Ah, Leonid. Always so serious, even when you’re trying to charm me. But I like that about you.”
She steps closer, her voice dropping into something just above a whisper. “This isn’t just about the jewelry anymore.” There’s a glint in her eye, sharp and conspiratorial. “Trust me—you’ll want to see what’s behind door number two.”
I don’t trust anyone who says “trust me.”
She turns sharply, motioning for me to follow. I take a last glance around the room. The low murmurs of the not-yet-crowded gala hum in the background, but something feels… off. Still no Maksim.
Suka! Where the fuck is he?
37
Leonid
Ilet Fiona lead the way, her gown trailing like a ripple through still water.
The room seems to react to her, not the other way around, as conversations drop an octave when her bodyguards fall into line behind us. A wall of black suits and stony expressions, they move with military precision, their presence as natural as a shadow and twice as menacing.
I follow her toward the quieter corners of the gala, my mind half on her and half scanning the room one last time. Still no Maksim.
Idi na khui,Maksim. This isn’t the time to disappear.
She glances back once, her red lips curving into a smile as she catches me watching.
“Don’t look so tense, Leonid,” she purrs. “This is the fun part.”
“Fun isn’t what I came for,” I mutter, adjusting my cufflink as I keep pace with her.
She stops in front of a set of tall, ornate doors near the far end of the hall, gilded with gold that’s almost too on the nose for a jewelry-themed gala. The kind of detail that screamsmoneyand whispersdanger.
I let Fiona step back to stand beside me, her hand slipping under my arm smoothly.
From the shadows of her bodyguards emerges her right-hand man, a stocky figure with a military-cut salt-and-pepper buzz, his thick neck bulging slightly above his tailored black suit. A jagged scar curves down from his right temple to the edge of his cheekbone.
Without hesitation, he steps forward and punches in a series of digits on the keypad embedded in the gilded door. The screen flickers, requiring his eye scan. He leans in, his scar catching the light, and a soft beep unlocks the ornate panels.
“Now, Leonid,” Fiona purrs again, her voice a mix of indulgence and amusement as she tilts her head to glance at me, “you’ll see. Trust me, darling. Surprises are what keep life interesting.”
