But I was adaptable. I turned shit into gold. I used these events for my networking.
Tonight was a high-stakes poker game. So, it wasn’t unusual that the non-players were socializing outside of the poker rooms. I put my eavesdropping to good use. More than a few weren’t even aware I was Kirill’s wife, and I was good at becoming an ornament in the background. Just wear a simple blackdress. Nothing too flashy that would invite, “oooh, who’s the designer?” question and appear to always be eating and too busy to be bothered with extended small talk.
But I discovered that the best source of information was the staff. I recognized a few. It seemed that any bratva-sponsored poker games employed the same people to keep a stringent background check. I’d been to three, and I’d become buddies with Edwin—the buy-in cashier. With all the buy-ins recorded, he was in and out of the game rooms, probably to catch a break from the smoke and a relaxing drink for himself. I sauntered over to him at the bar while asking for another glass of wine.
“Mrs. Zahkarova, you’re looking beautiful.”
I shot him a dazzling smile. “You’re always good for my ego. How’s the baby?”
He had a six-month-old boy.
“We finally slept through the night, thank God.” He grinned. “When will you and Mr. Zahkarov have kids?”
“We’re waiting. He needs to have fewer of these late nights…” I winked at him.
He laughed. “At least now he brings you.”
“Yes, he always complains he has business to do, but he hopes he’ll have breathing room soon so we can finally go on that honeymoon.” I pouted. “I want to go to Dubai. I heard it’s gorgeous and so modern there.”
“Shop till you drop.” He tipped his chin toward the poker room. “Who knows, Mr. Ahmed might bet one of his properties and you’ll have a mansion or an entire building all to yourself.”
“Unless my husband loses…”
Edwin laughed. “Mr. Zahkarov is one of the better players, believe me. As for Mr. Bryant, he keeps doubling down.”
He was referring to the finance guy in the super-high-stakes room.
One thing I was good at was keeping track of threads of conversation from previous intel gathering. “I don’t think his hedge fund will appreciate that.”
Edwin shook his head. “He’s trying to impress Mr. Ahmed.”
So he’d invest with him. Meanwhile, the Swiss tech millionaire Hanziker stepped out of the room. He looked so out of place in this crowd. His unruly blond hair, almost white; lanky build; and thick black square frames that screamed nerd more than card shark.
“And him?” I nodded to Hanziker. “Does he even play? He’s always circling the buffet and butting into huddles.”
“He just wants to be seen.” Edwin shook his head again. “I don’t think he’s a serious player.”
We continued to chat and exchange seemingly innocuous conversation. I never dug too deep, just skimmed the surface to validate information on my targets. So far, I had found nothing I could use to blackmail Kirill.
“You look stunning tonight, Lucy,” a brittle voice said behind me.
I stiffened, turning to face Anya. I hadn’t received any videos or pictures from Mr. Anonymous ever since Kirill started requiring my presence at these events. Made me wonder if it was Anya behind all this.
“Anya,” I said tightly. “You’ve recovered, I hope?”
Edwin quickly excused himself.
She accepted a glass of champagne from the bartender and sipped. “Despite the way you glammed up, Kirill still leaves you alone, doesn’t he?”
“That’s your perception…”
She leaned forward. “I’ll always mean more to him than you.”
“If that’s the case, then I don’t see why you need to remind me.”
“He married you to protect me. But he always planned to humiliate you by making you look pitiful as the abandoned wife.”
“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a terrible deal.” I sipped my wine. “I’m the one wearing the family diamond. His babushka’s ring?”
