I laugh—too sharp, too loud. “My problem? He’s a grown man.”
Artyom’s eyes stay on me, unblinking. “He was working for me.”
I freeze. “What?”
“He moved product for us. My drugs. That was his deal. Clean, simple. Until he decided to getcreative.”
The words don’t register at first. My mind refuses to fit them into any version of reality I know.
“You’re lying,” I whisper.
His expression doesn’t flicker. “He started selling more than he was reporting. Keeping the extra money. Now he’s vanished.”
I shake my head. “No. Lucas—he’s not—he wouldn’t?—”
“Wouldn’t steal?” His voice stays calm, almost gentle. “Wouldn’t betray someone to save his own life? I think you know him better than that, Kira.”
The sound of my name in his mouth makes me flinch again. He steps closer. I can feel his heat even through the space between us.
“He’s been missing for a week,” Artyom continues. “And when one of my people disappears with cash and stock, I make sure he doesn’t stay hidden for long. But since I can’t find him…” His gaze drifts over the room, slow and deliberate, before settling back on me. “…I’ll settle for the one person I know he loves enough to risk contact for.”
It takes a second for the words to make sense. Then they hit all at once.
“You’re insane,” I say, voice shaking. “You can’t?—”
“I can,” he interrupts. “And I will. You think this is a negotiation? It isn’t.”
Anger flares through the fear, wild and desperate. “I don’t have anything to do with this!”
He nods once, almost thoughtful. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t change what’s owed.”
“Then go find him!”
“I will.” His tone is cool, final. “But until I do, the debt stays open. And open debts attract attention I don’t need.”
My voice rises. “What do you want from me?”
He studies me for a moment, the faintest hint of something like amusement crossing his features. “A solution.”
“Stop speaking in riddles! A solution to what?”
He leans against the edge of the table, unhurried. “I have to meet some… partners in Italy. Old alliances, delicate negotiations. They like things traditional. Stability. Family.”
“And?”
“I need a fiancée.”
I stare at him. “You’re out of your freaking mind.”
He shrugs, unbothered. “You’d be surprised how persuasive a little domestic illusion can be.”
I cannot pretend to be his fiancée… can I? “And if I say no?”
“Then I find your brother, and when I do, I put a bullet in his head.”
The words land cold and solid in my stomach. For a moment, I can’t breathe. “You can’t just?—”
“Oh, I can,” he says softly. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
