Page 9 of The Russian's Bought Bride

My voice cuts through the corridor, carrying just enough authority to make him stop while the others push the gurney inside, save one of the nurses who looks back questioningly.

Volodin turns, irritation already forming in his expression as if interruptions are the last thing he wants to entertain, until his eyes land on me.

He recognizes the fact that I’m not supposed to be here, but something about his hesitation reads like he has a good idea of why.

“This area is restricted,” he says, defaulting to protocol as he subtly adjusts his rectangular-framed glasses. “If you’re looking for—”

“I’m not.” I step closer, close enough that he has to shift his focus entirely to me, and I can already tell he wants nothing to do with this conversation.

“Mr…” Volodin trails off, clearly searching for a name he doesn’t have, and I don’t give it to him.

Instead, I hold his gaze and say quietly, “I have a meeting scheduled with your partner.”

That’s all it takes for the irritation to disappear, immediately replaced by wariness and calculation.

There it is.

“I don’t handle the arrangements,” he replies carefully, less put together now like he’s out of his depth. “You’ll need to speak with him.”

“No,” I return, voice dropping just enough to carry weight. “I won’t.”

A beat of silence stretches between us, and Volodin eventually straightens to reclaim control. “This is neither the time nor the place. We are in the middle of a critical procedure.”

“I’m aware of exactly what you’re in the middle of, and I know what you do here.”

Immediately, his eyes narrow. He’s not stupid.

He hears the implication and just how deep my knowledge goes, and it forces him to pause. As hard as he tries to school his reaction, I catch it all the same.

“You’re mistaken,” he says, but it lacks conviction now.

“Am I?” I tilt my head slightly, silently scrutinizing. “Because to me, it looks like you’re about to waste a very valuable asset, and money.”

His gaze sharpens at that and doesn’t deny it. Instead, he looks at me with interest, as that’s the kind of language he’s familiar with. We both know he’s running out of time.

“I was told you provide exclusive opportunities,” I continue smoothly, “rare, high-quality inventory.”

His lips press into a thin line, and he mutters, “You’re speaking out of turn.”

“I’ll pay extra,” I counter, not letting him see even a scrap of hesitation. He needs to know that I mean business, and I can back it up with any means necessary. “Above whatever you’re planning to extract. I just need you to keep her alive and intact. No operation.”

Volodin’s expression freezes, and for the first time since I approached him, he looks genuinely thrown. “…what?”

“You heard me. I want her alive and untouched.”

A flicker of disgust crosses his face before he can stop it, and I flag that as something interesting. So he draws a line somewhere, just not far enough to redeem him.

He blinks back at me, struggling to find the right words, but as he opens his mouth to flounder, I mutter, “Don’t insult me by pretending you don’t understand.”

That stops him in his tracks, and I can practically hear the calculations running behind his eyes now. Risk versus reward…exposure versus profit. If he doesn’t comply, then there will be plenty on the line.

“She’s already prepped,” Volodin says finally, trying to recover smoothly, but the longer this goes on, the more he seems to stumble. “The procedure has already been initiated. Diverting at this stage could be dangerous.”

“More importantly, this right here could cost you time, resources, and potential revenue,” I say plainly, reaching into my jacket and pulling out a slim card to hold it between two fingers. “Which I’m prepared to compensate for.”

Volodin hesitates again as his eyes slide to the card, then back to me. His voice comes out weaker this time, sounding less sure. “My partner handles negotiations.”

“I’m aware of your partner, but I’m talking to you. Right here, right now.”