He chuckles and takes a seat, anyway, folding one long leg over the other with lazy confidence. A coffee is set down in front of him moments later, and he takes a brief pause to bring it up to his lips and sip it slowly.
“Anton Sidorov,” he says, setting down the cup and offering a hand across the table.
I hesitate, then I shake it. His palm is dry and cold. “Ivy. Um, Bennett.”
“Yes. The American tutor. You’ve made quite the impression with our entire syndicate.” He says it like a compliment.
I blink. How much did Maksim tell these people about me? “Not on purpose. It’s not like I want to be here.”
“Of course not. Don’t worry. OurPakhansometimes has a flair for dramatics, but he’s not without reason.”
My stomach rolls.
“Is that what this is?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
His smile merely widens. “Maksim’s methods are… unorthodox. You have to understand, our Bratva deals in pressure points. Men like us only know peace after a battle has been won.”
I’m too confused to follow where he’s leading me. Battle? Peace? Is that what the drive-by at the cafe is being called?
During my conversation with Maksim yesterday, he hinted at the hit not being from his own party, but how true is that? How far can I trust him to be honest with me? It’s not like he owes me honesty. If he wants to squeeze whatever he thinks he can get out of me, he’ll try every method he thinks will work.
Including trying to get on my good side.
Anton studies me with calculating eyes. “I regret to inform you that you’ve stumbled upon a rather tumultuous time period for us. Whatever your affiliation with the Sorokins is, you’ve unfortunately been brought into the fold of our family.”
For some reason, anger flares in my chest, the same white-hot feeling that washed over me in the car yesterday. “I didn’t stumble into anything. I was forced into this position. Why can’t you people understand that? I came over here to teach English, not get roped into your turf war.”
He chuckles. It sends a chill racing down my spine.
“Such fire. That’s a dangerous thing to have in Russia.” He leans forward, elbows resting lightly on the edge of the table. “You know, Ivy, I can tell you’re very smart. Smarter than Maksim may have given you credit for.”
I glance up sharply. “Is that supposed to flatter me?”
He tilts his head slightly. “No. Just an observation. But intelligence is only an asset when wielded correctly. Otherwise, it gets people killed.”
I look away, gripping my coffee cup too tightly. That’s almost exactly what Maksim told me too. How often are these people killing innocent civilians?
“Are you threatening me?” I ask, keeping my tone flat.
He chuckles again. “Oh, no, my dear. I’mwarningyou.”
“About what?”
He picks up his cup again and takes another sip. “Curiosity has a very high price in our world. Especially for outsiders. If I were you, I’d play the part assigned. Smile, teach your vocabulary lessons to that little girl when you return, and keep your head down until the storm passes.”
I stare at him. “And what happens if it doesn’t pass?”
“Then you’ll learn how good you had it today.”
He rises smoothly, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve before turning slightly, as though he’s already moving on to the next piece in whatever elaborate game he’s playing.
“I’ll tell Maksim you’re up. I’m sure he’ll be eager to speak with you once he’s done with his meetings.”
He’s gone a second later, vanishing down the corridor.
Who the hell was that guy?
14
