“Yes, sir. I recently moved here from Moscow.” My English is good after all the private lessons Pavel arranged and the American media I consumed growing up, but I’m not surprised he can hear the subtle inflections in the way I speak.
“And what brings you to New York?”
“School. Adventure.” I smile. “The chance to try something new.”
His head tilts and a faint crease appears between his eyebrows. “There’s something familiar about you. Have we met before? Maybe in Moscow? I’m there often.”
Cold dread pools in my stomach. Does he recognize me? The Belov Syndicate and the Baronovs operate in different spheres, and I’ve always stayed behind the scenes, but what if he saw my face somewhere? It’s unlikely, but nothing in life is impossible.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ears, acting flattered that he thinks he might know me. “I don’t think so. I would remember meeting you.”
“Hmm.” He doesn’t look convinced. “Perhaps you simply have one of those faces.”
“Perhaps.” I blink, trying to reconcile the man making small talk with me with the pakhan who auctioned women and probably did much worse.
He carries himself like a CEO closing a deal, not a crime lord once involved in auctioning human beings. He’s polished in a way that feels entirely calculated.
“Well, then, Evelina Panova from Moscow. I’m off to Russia tomorrow, actually.” He steps aside, clearing the hallway. “Welcome to Velour. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other.”
“Thank you, Mr. Baronov.”
I move past him, careful not to rush or do anything that screams guilty conscience. But the weight of his attention follows me as I walk away.
Has he seen me before, or am I being paranoid? I’ve been so careful to stay anonymous, to strip any trace of Dinara Potapova from the world. It’s part of the job—hackers need to stay in the shadows.
It’s also possible I just have one of those faces like he said.
Still, the pakhan noticed me, and as much as it costs me to smile and make small talk with him, he’s my ultimate target.
CHAPTER
SIX
KIRILL
“Twenty days.”Matvey stops pacing long enough to look at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You made a deal with Ruslan to find and eliminate the Ghost by the end of the month? Are you fucking crazy?”
I shrug, reaching for the vodka on the side table. Pouring myself a double shot, I knock back two fingers before setting it down. “What was I supposed to do? Let him marry Katya off to Elio fucking Valenti?”
Matvey stops in front of the one-way glass overlooking Velour’s main floor. He has our mother’s features. Sharp cheekbones and brown eyes that give away more than he’d like. We share the same dark hair, but he wears his longer, shoved back from his face like he rolled out of bed ten minutes ago.
Jeans and a leather jacket instead of a suit because he’s not the future pakhan and never lets me forget how much he enjoys that freedom.
From the corner, our youngest brother, Demyan—Dem to everyone who knows him—finally speaks up. “Does Katya know about your deal with the devil?”
In his late twenties, he’s got a boyish face that makes people underestimate his brutality. It’s a mistake most people only make once.
We make a good team. I handle strategy and negotiations. Matvey manages our soldiers and keeps operations running, while Dem tracks down anyone stupid enough to cross us.
I spin a pen in my hand, thinking of Katya in her room after she left the old man’s study. She was curled up on her window seat, knees pulled to her chest, bracing for the worst.
When I told her I had a plan to get her out of this arrangement, she jumped up and threw her arms around my neck. But I don’t deserve her gratitude. At least not yet.
“I told her the marriage isn’t happening, but I didn’t tell her everything. If we fail, Katya marries Elio. And…” I take another pull of vodka, letting the burn settle in my chest. “Ruslan picks a wife for me.”
Matvey goes still. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I wasn’t letting Katya marry the same piece of shit who killed his pregnant girlfriend. But if either of you has a better option, I’m open to suggestions.”
