The room is deceptively warm in appearance with dark wood floors, an opulent decorative ceiling and luxury leather seating, but it does nothing to hide the danger in this room. The well-placed lighting to cast the room in shadows in just the right spots, the floor-to-ceiling windows directly behind Ilya’s desk that overlook the frosted mountain peaks and black skies. Perfectly placed furniture to ensure no one catches them by surprise.
They’ve thought of everything. Mostly. I already see a few flaws, but I’ll keep those to myself.
“Sit,” Ilya orders, pointing to one of the chairs to the right of the desk. Closest to a rounded table where he must meet with his men when needed. It’s also directly out of sight of the windows and near some of the curtains. Is he trying to hide that I’m here?
I almost want to snort. Who the fuck would ever think to look for me here?
I settle into the chair, sinking into the leather, instead of perching on the edge of the seat like I want to do. Let them think that I’m unfazed by it all. I need to know what the hell the plan is before I make any moves.
Never make decisions based on emotions. It will get you killed.
My father’s words echo in my head, and I push them out. The last thing I want is to listen to his bullshit. I’ve worked too damn hard to keep him out for the past decade.
Zakhar takes a seat across from me on the left of Ilya’s desk, while the new one—I really hope someone is going to give me his name soon—and his wolf stay by the door, on guard. The wolf is watching me, alert and ready to move.
“I want guards around the house, alternating rotations in case anyone gets any wise ideas,” Ilya orders the man by the door.
“He’s worried I’m going to try and escape,” I supply to them helpfully with a smirk.
“Why haven’t you tried to escape yet?” Zakhar asks curiously, brow arching. “It’s not like you didn’t have the opportunity.”
“Because she’s the one sent from the Chameleon,” Ilya states curtly. “He’s insisted that she’s going to be the best option for the job.”
Do they think that I work for Tatiana? The one they keep calling a man?
These stupid, stupid men. I’m going to enjoy taking them down a few pegs, but not yet. I need to bide my time for now. Figure out the logistics of whatever they are planning first.
“Yeah, that fucker’s nuts,” Zakhar agrees with a slight shiver. “I’ve seen the shit they do. Did you see the way they gutted that French diplomat a few months back?”
“I thought they hadn’t claimed responsibility for that?” the man by the door interjects with a frown. “Didn’t the Italians takecredit for that one? Something about him trying to double-cross one of their Dons?”
“Intel suggests that that was a cover story to ensure that no one knew who actually did it, but the Chameleon has no allegiance to the Russians alone; there are a lot of rumors and whisperings.” Zakhar looks back at me thoughtfully. “Anything you’d like to share,krasotka?”
I give him nothing, just stare at him. Let him think what he wants. The more they talk, the more they reveal, and the more I can use.
And wouldn’t Tatiana laugh if she heard all this shit? When she kills someone, no one will know it was her. She won’t leave a signature or a way to trace it back to her. Whoever did that bad a job, well, Tatiana has probably already disposed of them.
“Oleg, see to it that we’re not disturbed and send him back when his disrespectful ass gets here,” Ilya snaps at the man by the door.
At least I have a name to go by now.
Oleg doesn’t look surprised at the order. Instead, he asks, “Freya?”
“Leave her. Ms. Antonova has experience with dogs, so I’m sure it won’t bother her.” His tone is mocking. I don’t react to his use of my birth name. If he’s trying to get a rise out of me, he’s going to have to do better than that.
Oleg nods, muttering a command that I can’t quite make out from this distance, before leaving the room, the door shutting with a soft click. The wolf lies down in front of the door, eyes alert, even as her tongue lolls.
I look back at Ilya, seeing him watching me intently. I give him a dry smile. “Is that supposed to be a threat or a scare tactic? We really need to work on your approach at those, Romanov. Now, I’m done waiting for an explanation, so I suggest you get talking. The more I think about this insane plan, the more Iwant to just kill myself before I have to put myself through the annoyance of dying a slow, painful death in the end.”
His eyes flash at the mention of my death, and he gets to his feet. “Is that your plan, Ms. O’Brien? You’re going to just kill yourself before you?—”
“Christ, would you sit the fuck down and not let her bait you?” Zakhar snaps, getting to his own feet and glaring at his brother. “What the fuck is wrong with you today? You’re normally smarter than this. Is she getting to your head that much?”
Ilya’s temper flares, darkening his cheeks.
Poking the bear, I give him a smug smile, making his fists clench tight at his sides. “Whoever this woman is, she must be something to have you so worked up. First, she calls the cops on you, and now she’s messing with your head this bad? I’m impressed.”
Instead of answering that, he snaps, “The only thing that you need to be thinking about is how you’re going to pull off this job that we’ve given you. I have no time for bullshit mistakes, and your life depends on it.”
