I watch her move down the hallway in short, quick steps until she rounds the corner and is gone.
No drama, no slammed door. Just a quiet walk down the hall that hits me harder than it should.
Andrei’s words return to mind—not everyone distracts you.
But she does. She distracts me, disarms me. She makes me want things I have no business wanting, not with Garin circling, not with the IPO on the brink the way it is. Not with half the city wanting me to fall so they can pick my corpse clean.
But when she walked away a part of me followed her.
And that’s more dangerous than I want to admit.
CHAPTER 15
ROMAN
“Roman Barinov. Always a pleasure. You look well.”
The office belongs to a man who understands appearances and cares about them deeply.
Glass walls. Pale wood. Neutral art that looks expensive yet doesn’t catch the eye. It’s the kind of place designed to reassure investors and ease suspicion in equal measure. My contact used the bland euphemism financial services.
I know what that means—money laundering, overseas account management, perhaps a bit of technically-legal tax evasion. But I’m not here for any of that. I’m here for answers.
The man’s name is Levshin. He smiles just a bit too easily and sits too comfortably for someone responsible for managing the money of some of the heaviest hitters in Chicago. His suit is tailored a bit too well for someone who is, as I’m sure he tells his peers, adjacent to syndicate activity.
“Please. Sit.”
Andrei and I ease into the leather chairs across from his desk.
“Now, I’d love to know what brings you to my office. I believe our mutual contact said you were wanting some sort of information?”
His tone is tinged with a bit of old country accent. No doubt it was thicker at one point. Men like him are always so eager to become American yet can’t escape the old country’s ways.
“You know what I’m looking for. There have been whispers to some of my investors.”
He sits back. “Yes, your IPO. What sorts of whispersare you speaking of?”
Andrei leans forward. “You know who we are. And you know why we’re here. So let’s dispense with the bullshit where you pretend you don’t know what we’re talking about.”
The easy, comfortable smile on Levshin’s face vanishes. It’s clear he’d been hoping to throw a little smoke to get our attention off of him and send us out of here clueless.
Not a chance in hell.
“Whispers,” I say, redirecting his attention. “I want to know where they’re coming from, who’s trying to sabotage my plans.
Levshin glances away as if having one last internal debate about whether or not he’s going to try to swerve me. A heavy sigh slips out before he speaks.
“You have enemies who don’t want to see you succeed. You know this. They’re countless in this town.”
“I know I have enemies,” I reply. “But most of them are nobodies, content to seethe because they know they lack the power to do anything but. Whoever’s spreading this informationhas both the ability to access said informationandto disseminate it without signaling who they are.”
Levshin nods slowly. “Right. Someone is feeding information to multiple channels,” he admits. “Not enough to convict—you’ve been too good about keeping your nose clean, publicly at least—for that. But still, they’re able to spread just enough to make people nervous.”
“To whom?” I ask.
“The usual. Banks. Journalists. Law enforcement.”
Law enforcement. My face remains neutral.
