“I’ll do what I have to do, but on my conditions. If I succeed, Katya doesn’t marry Elio or anyone else. She gets to go to school before any marriage arrangements are even discussed.”
“Deal.” His smile is thin. “Twenty days to take out the Ghost. If you’re successful, we won’t need the Valentis and Katya goes to school.” He pauses, and it’s in this moment that something cold crawls up the back of my neck. Instinct that I won’t like what comes next. “But if you fail, your sister marries Elio, and you marry a bride of my choosing.”
And there it is. He knows I’m not interested in marriage, arranged or otherwise. As far as I can tell, most marriages turn into prisons. I made myself a promise a long time ago that I’d never do that to myself or anyone else.
My jaw locks. “Why is that necessary?”
“Arranged marriages are part of this world. Part of being a leader. You’ll have to accept that eventually.”
I turn away from him, dragging a hand through my hair. “Someone in mind?” I ask.
“Does it matter?” He smirks. “You’re not going to fail … are you, Kirill?”
My molars press together. I’ve been played, maneuvered into exactly the position he wanted me in from the moment I walked through the door. “No. I won’t,” I vow. Because now it’s both Katya and my future at risk.
“Then there should be no problem.”
He slides the coin back across the desk and I close my fist around it, the metal biting into my palm. The meeting’s over. I’ve got twenty days to save us both.
CHAPTER
FIVE
DINARA
I arrivewith only a minute to spare for my training shift, breathless from speed-walking the last three blocks. I hate being late, but MTI’s campus is in Morningside Heights and the subway gods were not on my side today.
It’s the third week of the program, and honestly, I could teach most of these cybersecurity classes myself. The coursework is easy compared to what I’ve been doing for the Syndicate for years. But I show up to the labs and lectures anyway, playing the part of dedicated student.
The bouncer at Velour’s door is not the same one from my audition three days ago. This guy is younger, built like a boxer. He gives me a friendly smile and a quick up and down when I approach.
“Evelina Panova,” I say, pushing my glasses up my nose. “I’m here for training.”
He checks a tablet, nods once, and pulls the door open, ushering me inside. “Oksana’s expecting you.”
Velour looks different in the pre-opening hours. House lights are on, stripping away the seductive shadows. There’s no musicpumping through the speakers, no trace of whatever dark magic transforms this place after sundown. Staff are already busy, wiping down tables, restocking bottles, while dancers arrive in sweats and sneakers with gym bags slung over their shoulders.
Oksana is behind the main bar, her chestnut hair twisted into an efficient bun. She’s wearing the staff uniform of a fitted black dress that hits mid-thigh, sleeveless with a low neck. It’s simple, but on her tall, lithe frame with perfect dancer’s posture, she makes it look like haute couture.
“Ready?” she asks, stepping around the bar to meet me.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I push my frames higher on my nose. “I’m a bit nervous, to be honest.”
“Tonight is just training. You’ll be shadowing one of the more experienced servers. It’ll help you get the hang of it.” Oksana’s eyes travel from my combat boots up to my leather jacket and finally to the glasses. “You weren’t kidding about being a tech nerd, were you?”
I’m dressed in my street clothes: a white cotton T-shirt under a leather jacket I found at a thrift shop in Williamsburg, high-waisted vintage Levi’s, and my favorite chunky combat boots. Thick, black-framed glasses are perched on my nose because I couldn’t be bothered with contacts after staring at screens for hours, and my hair is pulled back in a messy bun.
“To my very core.”
She smiles and gestures toward a doorway near the back of the club. “Change room is straight back there, down the hall, second door on the left. Your locker is number thirty-three. You’ll find your uniform inside, already had one in your size. You brought heels, right?”
I nod, patting my messenger bag. “The ones from my audition.”
“Those work.” She glances at her watch. “You’ve got fifteen minutes. There’s hair and makeup stuff in the change room.”
I laugh at her insinuation. “Don’t worry. I came prepared to transform myself for the ball.”
“Good.” She shoos me away. “I’ll meet you back here when you’re ready.”
