Page 61 of The Specialist

Grateful the day was almost over, I swept the room and assumed my position. Roman always sat with his back to a wall, facing the doorway. He was escorted into the room, offering me a terse nod. He sat down and snapped his fingers for coffee. I found his mannerisms annoying and degrading, but I kept my features neutral. My time with him was almost at an end. His chef poured the coffee and left the room. He met briefly with his PA, then sat with another man, speaking a language I didn’t understand. By that point, I didn’t really care, only wanting the day to be over.

His meeting ended, and he called for more coffee, once again snapping his fingers. After the cup was filled, he dismissed the chef and sipped his beverage.

For a moment, there was silence. Roman drained the coffee in one long drink then stood and turned to me. “You were an excellent addition today, Mr. Vulpe. I am sorry for my part in this, but I was given no choice.”

I was confused by his words. “Part in what?”

He shook his head and walked out of the room. Before I could move, the door opened and someone else walked in.

Ivan.

* * *

For a moment, our gazes clashed. His triumphant, mine furious. I began to step forward, and he held up his hand. “I suggest you take a seat.”

“I suggest you go fuck yourself.”

He began to laugh. “I like your humor, Mr. Vulpe.”

The door opened, and Alex and the man who had been with Ivan the first time walked in. They all sat at the table. I remained standing.

“Whatever this is, I am having no part of it.”

I headed to the door, Ivan’s voice stopping me. “You will not be able to leave until I say so. I have gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to get you here, and I will not be denied.”

I opened the door, finding three men facing me. Their arms were folded in front of them, and they were all armed. Roman’s guards had been armed as well, but I wasn’t—at his request. I now understood why. Furious, I shut the door and returned to the table, sitting.

“You have ten minutes.”

“I have as much time as I want,” Ivan responded. “I paid for the whole day.”

“What do you have on Roman that made him cooperate?”

“Information on the family he keeps so safely protected.”

Internally, I swore. This whole day had been a setup. My gut had been right. It also made sense why Roman appeared so anxious as the day grew longer, and his constant calls to his wife.

“Why not just set up a single meeting? Why all day?”

Ivan smirked. “I enjoyed watching you act like a bodyguard. You’re very thorough.”

“I was paid to be. If, however, I had known it was paid by you, I would have refused.”

“Then you understand why I had to leverage Mr. Brock’s trip. Aside from his family’s welfare, I knew he would hate to have some of his contacts refuse to deal with him.”

I narrowed my eyes. He had that sort of power? Who was he?

“What is your name? It’s not Jones.”

He smiled. It was threatening in its intensity. “Ivan Petrov.”

The name meant nothing, but once I could get in touch with Damien, it would.

The door opened, and a waiter wheeled in a cart. He set up a coffee service, complete with sandwiches, then left.

“Help yourself,” Ivan said, pouring himself some coffee. Alex grabbed a sandwich, chewing fast, staying silent.

I shook my head. “I have no desire to eat with you.”