“She won’t be leaving as a civilian. She’ll be leaving with me, in an armored vehicle, with a security detail.”
“Why not send her with a driver and two guards? If it’s a day off?—”
“It’s not a day off.”
Another silence. Alexei looks at Mikhail, who looks at me.
“Why are you going personally?” Alexei asks.
“That’s my concern.”
“With respect, Rolan, if you’re leaving the property during an active conflict with the head of the Albanian faction, it’s all of our concern. You’re the primary target. Leaving cover to escort a tutor on a Sunday outing?—”
“Four men,” I order. “Armed. The armored Escalade. Standard protocol. I want the details ready by eight Sunday morning.”
Alexei opens his mouth to argue, then closes it. He reads my expression correctly.
“I’ll arrange it,” he concedes.
Mikhail hasn’t moved from his corner.
“Anything else?” I ask.
They shake their heads, stand, and leave.
The office is quiet. I sit behind my desk and think about Sunday.
She asked to leave.A personal matter,she said. The words careful, the eyes guarded. I didn’t ask.
But I know. I’ve read the file.
Landon Webb.
She’s going to see him.
The absolute fucking bastard.
He thinks he owns her? She thinks her debt belongs to him?
No.
She’s mine.
And I’ll make that crystal fucking clear.
19
ELLIE
Sunday arrives ahead of schedule.
I’m ready by eight-fifteen. Black jeans, a cream sweater, and flat boots. Hair down.
The meeting with Landon is at ten. I picked Woodfield Commons specifically because it will be full of people. Families, strollers, and teenagers killing time. The background noise of ordinary life. Landon prefers privacy. He’ll hate the setting, which is the point.
Public means witnesses, and that means he has to keep the mask on.
I stand in my room for a moment longer than necessary, turning my phone over in my hands. I already know what he wants: to look me in the eyes and remind me that he can reach me anywhere; to make me feel small and managed. And then he wants me to thank him for the privilege.
