Gabe says nothing. He only watches carefully.
I lean forward, pushing my glass away. It spins and some whisky spills out. “I think your prices are ten percent too high and you’re going to saddle us with obscene shipping costs. I want you to cover import and transportation.”
“That is at the discretion of the buyer. You know this. Gabriel, tell your wife, please.”
“Don’t talk to me, Idir.” Gabe glances at him, his expression deeply amused.
Idir throws up his hands. “I am insulted. My honor is besmirched!”
“Ten percent off. Split the transportation cost in half. You nearly made me piss myself and you’re overcharging. Otherwise, we walk.”
“You walk where? There is nowhere else!”
“My husband is going to be a dragon.” I lean in, meeting Idir's gaze, doing my best to hide how deeply terrified I am right now. “Don’t you think there’s a line of arms dealers begging to work with him?”
Idir’s lips twitch. He glances away toward the tank. The silence is painful, and it takes a lot of effort to keep my mouth shut. Gabelays a hand on my leg, reassuring and strong, like he’s silently telling me that he’s got my back.
Idir slams back his whisky. “Alright, Mrs. Russo, you have your deal. I will regret it to my dying day, the shame of these numbers, but—“ His grin returns, bright and easygoing. “I cannot resist a beautiful woman!”
“Clearly,” I mutter, eyes flicking to the girls, still busily packing the warehouse.
There’s no paperwork, no invoices, no trail at all. Only a handshake, an exchange of details and shipping promises, and that’s the end. Gabe promises to send a bank transfer in a day for a twenty-percent down payment with the rest at delivery.
I walk out of there in a daze. I keep thinking Idir’s going to come running after us, demand we come back and fix this mistake, or maybe Gabe’s going to laugh in my face and tell me how I got ripped off like the idiot I am. My heart’s racing right up until we climb back into the car and Gabe whispers into his radio telling his protection teams to stand down.
He turns to me. His eyes roam my face, my lips, down my body and back again. We’re alone in the town car. The divider is up and the windows are tinted. He licks his lips, takes a deep breath, and leans forward.
“Congratulations, Nika. You drive one hell of a negotiation.”
I burst out laughing. Something in me softens and cracks. I lean back in my seat, elation running through me as the car pulls out and we start driving away. “I got a good deal? I really didn’t screw it up?”
“You got a perfectly acceptable deal.” He puts his hand on my leg again. I should maybe brush it away, but I like the way it feels right where it is. “Idir’s profit margins are probably thinner than he usually likes, but I have a feeling we’re all winners in this.”
“Oh my god. I thought I screwed it up.”
“Not at all. You did wonderful.” He moves closer, his lips bending down to brush my neck. My heart doubles in speed. I like the way he touches me, the way he can’t seem to stop coming close to me. Even though I’m barely more than a bank account to him, it feels like there’s something drawing us closer together.
And maybe that’s stupidity on my part. Maybe we can’t ever be more, and why would I want that? He dragged me into this war and ripped me from my familiar, boring life. I was safe before, at least until a drone blew up my apartment and I was forced to marry him in front of a priest who was clearly paid to perform the ceremony. This relationship is a business arrangement and nothing more. He’s been clear about that from the start.
But this doesn’t feel like business. His fingers grazing my leg, his mouth brushing my throat. The steady flutter of desire in my heart. His voice echoing in my mind as he stroked himself in the shower.Veronika…
For a man who says he doesn’t care, he seems like he can’t stop thinking about me.
And for some sick reason, that gives me strength.
Enough to negotiate with arms dealers, at least.
I shift closer to him, feeling too excited from my win to care about what our relationship means, what he really wants, any of that. All I can see is what’s in front of me: a handsome man,eager and willing, almost desperate, and I like that. I really like it.
At least until the car jerks sideways.
“Fuck!” Gabe grabs me, using one arm to pin me back against the seat as the tires scream and the car spins. “Hold on!”
Ahead, I catch a glimpse of a van barreling straight at us. The driver’s trying to get out of the way, but it’s too late. The van crosses the median, skips over the curb, slams down on two wheels?—
And rams into our car.
Everything is chaos. Glass shatters. I’m thrown sideways. My only reference point is Gabe’s arm still pinning me back, his muscles straining, as the car spins and spins. I feel sick and I’m screaming as glass cuts against my face, until suddenly I’m jerked to a stop as our car comes to rest up against a tree.
