He nods once. “You’ll get all three.”
I press my palms into my eyes, fighting tears. “Maybe when I wake up, this will all be a nightmare.”
Andrei chuckles lightly, and I know what he’s thinking. Nothing will be different when I wake up. A girl can dream, though.
6
ANDREI
The first step to ensuring Alina’s safety is containment. I have to get this situation locked down and under control. Otherwise, her fiancé will catch us off guard, and that cannot happen.
The process is instinctual at this point, something ingrained in me so deeply I don’t think about it consciously anymore. When a situation becomes volatile, it’s important to reduce its ability to spread. To limit movement, control information, and remove unnecessary variables.
Alina Kuznetsova is a variable I did not anticipate.
She stands near the door of my suite, arms crossed tightly over her chest, posture rigid with defiance. The hotel’s luxury robe is cinched tight, but it does nothing to soften the tension running through her body. She looks like someone bracing for impact, waiting for the next blow to land.
“You have to let me go,” she says flatly. “I’m done arguing about this this.”
I watch her for a moment before responding. She’s exhausted, and upset. The adrenaline that carried her through the humiliation of the night is wearing off, leaving raw nerves behind. Her eyes are too bright, her movements slightly unsteady.
“That’s not possible,” I say calmly.
Her jaw tightens. “You don’t get to decide that.”
I’ll forgive her insolence because she’s so exhausted, but normally I wouldn’t allow anyone to speak to me this way. She simply has no idea what she’s up against, but I do. One wrong move will fuck up the whole plan.
“I do,” I reply. “I know how to navigate these situations better than you do.”
She laughs, short and incredulous.
“I just want to go downstairs,” she says as calmly as she can manage. “It’s hardly an issue of national security. If I’m going to disappear with you, I have to get my things.”
“Alina,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose to stay calm. “There is no way in hell I’m letting you go down there. My men aren’t entirely clear on the situation yet. There’s too much at stake.”
“To go down to a ballroom and grab my purse and coat?” she nearly screeches. “What could possibly happen?”
“It’s the not knowing that is keeping you here,” I say firmly. “As soon as I have a situation report, we’re moving. If you want your things, I’ll send for them. It’ll be safer that way.”
She turns away from me, pacing two short steps toward the door before stopping herself. She doesn’t trust herself not to bolt, and that’s good. Running without a plan gets people killed.
I pull my phone from my pocket and make the call before she can argue again.
“Richard,” I say when my assistant answers. “Get the concierge. Ms. Kuznetsova’s belongings are still in the ballroom. Retrieve everything quietly and bring them up here. We need to move her car too. I don’t want it sitting downstairs.”
“Yes, sir,” he replies immediately.
I end the call and look back at her. “There,” I say. “Everything is taken care of.”
Her mouth opens, then closes again. She clearly didn’t think I could handle things that easily.
“You didn’t have to?—”
“I did,” I interrupt. “Because you’re not going back downstairs.”
Her shoulders tense. “You’re managing me,” she grumbles. “I don’t need to be managed.”
“Yes, you do,” I answer simply.
