“Just an admirer of your husband’s work.” He falls into step beside me as I continue toward the main room. I don’t remember inviting him to walk with me. “He’s built quite anempire. The acquisition of Vasiliev Industries was particularly impressive. Very bold move.”
“I’ll pass along your compliments.”
“Please do.” He smiles again, and something about it makes my skin crawl. There’s no warmth in it. Just teeth. “Tell me, how are you finding married life? It must be quite an adjustment, going from employee to wife.”
The question feels pointed. Intrusive. Like he knows more about our situation than he should. But I keep my smile in place.
“It’s been wonderful, actually. Menlow is a remarkable man.”
“I’m sure he is.” The man’s gaze lingers on me a beat too long, traveling from my face down to my dress and back up again. “You’re quite remarkable yourself. Not many people could adapt to his world so quickly. It takes a certain… flexibility.”
The way he says the word makes my stomach turn.
“I’m a fast learner.”
“Clearly.” He stops walking, and I stop too, mostly out of politeness. I want to keep moving, to get back to the main room where Menlow is waiting, but something tells me that showing fear would be a mistake. “Well, I won’t keep you. I’m sure your husband is waiting. But it was lovely to meet you, Mrs. Karpov. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again.”
The words sound like a promise. Or maybe a threat. I can’t tell which, and that uncertainty is almost worse than knowing.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” I tell him, and continue walking without looking back.
I can feel his eyes on me the entire way down the hallway. The urge to run is almost overwhelming, but I force myself to maintain a steady pace with my shoulders back, like I don’t have a care in the world.
By the time I reach the main room, I’ve almost convinced myself I’m overreacting. He was probably just another businessman trying to network. Nothing sinister about it. People say creepy things all the time without meaning anything by them.
But the crawling sensation on my skin doesn’t go away.
I spot Menlow near the bar, deep in conversation with two men I don’t recognize. He looks up as I approach, and something in my face must give me away because his brow furrows.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine.” I smile for the benefit of the men he’s speaking with. “Just ran into someone in the hallway.”
He excuses us from the conversation and guides me to a quieter corner near a potted fern. “Who?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t give me his name.” I accept the fresh glass of champagne Menlow hands me and take a sip to steady my nerves. “Dark hair, gray at the temples. Nice suit. Very… high-end.”
Menlow’s grip on his glass tightens. “What did he say?”
“He congratulated me on our marriage. Asked how I was finding married life.” I shrug, trying to play it off as nothing. “Normal small talk, I guess. But something about him felt off.”
“Off how?”
“I don’t know. Just… wrong. Like he was fishing for information or something. He mentioned the Vasiliev acquisition. And he looked at me like…” I trail off, not sure how to describe it. “Like he knew things about me. About us.”
Menlow sets his glass down on a nearby table. His face has gone blank, which I’ve learned means he’s working very hard to control his reaction.
“Describe him again,” he prompts. “In detail.”
“Um, okay. Tall. Maybe six-two. Dark hair with gray at the temples, like I said. Brown eyes. Clean-shaven. Mid-forties, maybe early fifties. His suit was very well-tailored.” I pause, trying to remember more. “He had a slight accent. Eastern European, maybe? Russian, possibly. And he wore a ring on his right hand. Gold with some kind of crest on it.”
Menlow’s entire body goes rigid.
“What is it?” I ask. “Do you know him?”
“I might.” He takes my elbow and starts steering me toward the exit. “We need to leave. Now.”
“What? Why? Menlow, you’re scaring me.”
