Disappear.
Appear again.
I'm watching three dots like a teenager waiting for his crush to text back.
Pathetic.
The dots vanish.
One minute passes. Two.
My phone buzzes.
CHAPTER TEN
Vittoria
My thumb hovers over the screen.
Who is this?
But I already know. I knew the second I sawMarchetti'sin that message. Knew it in my bones, in the way my pulse kicked up like a startled horse. There's only one person arrogant enough to text me unsolicited opinions about my dinner plans.
The real question isn'twho.
It'show.
How does Dmitri Baganov know where I'm having dinner on Saturday? How does he know about James Rogers? How does he have my number in the first place?
I pull up my security protocols in my head, running through possibilities like code. Hacked phone? Unlikely—I built my own encryption. Someone in the house? Possible, but who would betray us to the Bratva? Surveillance on Rogers? More likely, but that still doesn't explain?—
He's stalking me.
The thought lands with a thud.
It's the only answer that makes sense. He's been watching me. Tracking me. Probably since that night at Nexus, maybe before. The way he showed up at Pietro's office, the way he orchestrated those training sessions, the way he always seems to know exactly where I am and what I'm doing.
Dmitri Baganov has been stalking me.
I should be terrified. I should be running to Pietro right now, phone in hand, demanding protection from the Russian psychopath who's apparently made me his personal surveillance project.
Instead, something hot and dangerous curls low in my stomach.
Is there something wrong with me?
I hit send.
Who is this?
Three dots appear immediately. He was waiting.
You're not allowed to go out for dinner with someone else.
I stare at the screen.
Then I start laughing.
A full, loud, stomach-aching laugh that makes Amanda look up from her phone with raised eyebrows.
