The crowd parts for me. Smart fucking move.
“Having fun?” I stop inches from Maksim, close enough to smell the untouched whiskey in his glass.
He lifts his chin in greeting. “Boss. Still breathing, I see.”
My hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around the glass. It shatters against the bar, whiskey and blood mixing on marble. The nearby chatter dies.
“Still breathing?” The words taste like ash. “That’s what you have to say after leaving me alone with thatsukaand my brother?”
“Ludis was here?” Maksim quirks an eyebrow. Dmitry shifts his weight. Good. At least one of them remembers what fear feels like.
“Sorry, boss, we thought… The orders were clear.” Maksim leans closer, voice dropping below Fiona’s ongoing speech. “Her people said you were checking the gold shipment. Together.”
“Checking the—” A laugh tears from my throat, sharp enough to draw looks. “And you believed that bullshit?”
“Didn’t have much choice.” His eyes flick to the balcony where three of Fiona’s men stand watch. “They insisted. Strongly.”
Dmitry clears his throat. “Boss, we stayed close—”
“Close?” I turn on him, watching him swallow. “Close enough to hear her threaten to melt down fifty billion in pure Swiss gold? Close enough to watch my brother plan my execution?”
The muscle in Dmitry’s jaw jumps. At least he has the decency to look ashamed.
“Get the plane ready.” I grab Maksim’s collar, yanking him closer. “And next time someone tells you to stay put while I walk into a trap? Shoot them.”
His lips twitch. “Any preference on where?”
“Surprise me.” I release him, straightening his jacket with more force than necessary. “Wheels up in thirty. We’re going to fucking Switzerland.”
“Zermatt?” Dmitry’s eyebrows rise. “In the middle of—”
“Are your ears as useless as your brain, or is this intentional stupidity?”
From the stage, Fiona’s laughter rings out like breaking glass. I turn toward the exit, my men falling in step behind me.
“Oh, and Maksim?”
“Boss?”
“You’re buying me a new bottle of whiskey. The expensive kind.”
His quiet chuckle follows me out. “Consider it hazard pay.”
41
Clara
The soft glow of the lamp in the corner is the only thing keeping our room from descending into complete darkness. It casts long shadows over the hardwood floor and the expensive, fussy crown moldings that seem to mock me with their perfect edges. The bed—king-sized, with sheets so soft they probably came from the hair of angels—feels far too big for the two of us, yet somehow, it’s still too small to contain my restless thoughts.
Pathetic.The man kidnapped us, and here I am, wondering if he’s having fun at his fancy gala with his bottle-blonde arm candy.
“She’s been after the boss for years,” Maksim had said, smirking like he knew exactly how much that would piss me off.
Well, congratulations, asshole. Mission accomplished.
I turn my head sharply toward the clock on the bedside table, the small motion making my hair catch on my bare shoulder. Midnight. Of course.
Fucking shit.
