He’s bandaged and bruised, with half his face mottled up like a hideous Halloween mask, but he’s alive. Though he’s sitting at the other end of this long eight-person table, he hasn’t touched a single bite of food.
Still, I know a hungry lion when I see one. Worse, that sharp glimmer in his eyes suggests I’m his next meal.
I pick at a chocolate croissant to busy my hands. Maybe pretending to eat will convince everyone I’m relaxed and not itching to flee.
The room’s absolute silence doesn’t help.
A dozen men fill the suite—leaning against the walls, sitting on the sofa, loitering at the mini bar—and I swear I can hear my own blood rushing through my veins.
Don’t villains usually talk about their next pillaging or their latest village raid? What’s with these guys?
Across the room, Grigori’s phone vibrates against the desk. I twitch in my seat as my heart skitters against my ribs.
Fuck, that scared me.
Grigori grabs the cell with long pianist’s fingers and drags it to his ear. “Ah, Brody Gallagher.”
My fingers slip on the pastry.
“I would say I’m surprised to hear from you, but I’ve been expecting your call for some time.” Grigori spins around in the leather chair in front of the antique desk by the balcony. He’s propped himself up like a king on a throne for the better part of the morning while conducting business.
When he spins my way, his lips lift in a smirk.
I do my best to calm my thundering heart so I can hear.
Why would Brody call Grigori Rostov?
Grigori rises and crosses the room on long legs. “Go on.”
He stops at my side and places a hand on my shoulder, towering over me in his expensive pinstriped suit.
He resembles a gangster from the twenties. Or maybe a vampire, given our locale.
Grigori scoffs. “Yes, she is safe. Well-fed and watered. You Americans get so hot so quickly. …Yes, of course, I am well aware she is not an animal. Why are you calling? The point, please.”
I think my lungs might have become stone.
Brody is calling aboutme.
“Well, as you well know, that hard drive is of utmost importance to us and our long-term goals.”
My fingers clench beneath the table, digging into the tops of my thighs.Please, please, please…
“I would consider a trade. What do you propose?”
Grigori sits beside me and tears a hunk of flaky crust off the croissant on my plate. A dozen more remain untouched on the platter a few feet away, but over the last few hours, I’ve learned the man loves a pissing contest. Even when I refuse to participate.
“You almost killed Andrei, you know. Not to mention all my men. There are repercussions for such actions.”
Sweat beads on the back of my neck.
“So you say the information on the drive will more than compensate for your actions?” Grigori nods once. “And if I disagree with your assessment?”
He pours himself a cup of coffee. Brody’s deep voice echoes on the other end of the line, too soft for me to parse.
My body reacts to the sound all the same, with tingling threads of hope galloping through my bloodstream. The effort required to remain still and appear unfazed is monumental.
Grigori laughs, an almost sweet chord that rattles over my nerves like a train. “You seem awfully sure of yourself. You have a deal. You tell me when and where to make the exchange. There is too much heat and stimulation in this city, and I do not appreciate all the unearned celebration. I give you to the end of today.”
