Page 60 of Dark Soul

Alexia took a small step forward and said something to him, her voice too soft for Dark to hear the words. The man’s attention went from the boy to the woman, and he barked out something at her that made her cringe. But she didn’t step back.

She’s protecting the boy.

Dark watched the way the man towered over Alexia and the boy, and he wanted to keep walking and show him what it was like, when someone bigger than yourself towered over you, and made you feel small.

And he was tempted to do exactly that. Fuck the mission, fuck everything, because if that man touched Alexia—

He’s not going to touch Alexia.

This was Kvyat’s party. He’d invited all these people here. He wasn’t going to do anything in front of them.

But after … would the boy be safe? Would Alexia be safe?

Dark forced himself to relax. Despite the fact that people saw what they wanted to see, people were also conditioned to detect danger. He had to pretend he was simply one more rich asshole pretending to help children in need.

He picked up a glass of champagne from a passing server, brought the glass to his lips, and kept walking.

Alexia’s eyes looked beyond Kvyat—and straight at him. There was no surprise in her gaze, but he hadn’t expected it. He knew she’d noticed him earlier, when the music was playing—she’d seen him as soon as he’d walked through the door.

Dark lowered his eyes, hoping she wouldn’t say anything. And he should have talked to her earlier, made up some excuse as to why he would have been invited to this party. But he hadn’t been able to—hadn’t been able to make himself lie to her again, even though she could get him killed if she said something that raised Kvyat’s suspicions.

But she didn’t say anything. Her full attention was back on the boy, the two of them offering the perfect distraction.

So Dark did what he had to do. He walked up behind Kvyat, stumbling lightly, the champagne glass in his hand sloshing on the man’s dinner jacket.

“So sorry,” he slurred. “So sorry.”

His hands came up to wipe awkwardly at the other man’s jacket, only succeeding in spreading the liquid on the rich fabric.

Kvyat’s expression froze, then stretched into a thin smile as he removed Dark’s hands from his body. “Leave me,” he requested, his voice that of a man used to being obeyed.

And one of Kvyat’s security guys was there immediately, his large body coming between him and Kvyat, who was already walking away.

“So sorry,” Dark repeated dumbly, letting his body go loose as the body guard shoved him back into the crowd.

It didn’t matter now where Kvyat went, because on the inside of his lapel was a tiny microphone. And with Rogue hiding upstairs, they should be able to hear and record anything that happened in that office.

Dark let himself look back at where Alexia and the boy had been standing. Except neither of them was there anymore. They were heading up the stairs together, her hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Dark followed them with his eyes until they reached the first-floor landing, unable to tear his gaze away from her shapely behind.

He wondered if she’d be coming back down afterwards.

Better if she stays upstairs with the boy, away from this crowd.

Dark didn’t know what Kvyat’s contact looked like. It might be anyone. The elderly woman who’d touched his ass earlier. The successful startup founder. The businessman parading around with his trophy wife. The young American heiress whose face he’d seen multiple times in the news.

Dark knew better than anyone the darkness people could hold inside.

Any of them, given the right incentive, could be working with the Iranians.

“Shit.” Rogue’s whisper sounded loud in his ear.

“What’s going on, Rogue?” Dark hissed, barely moving his mouth.

“Kvyat’s upstairs. He just stepped out of the elevator.”

Where the fuck is the elevator?