“Well, so what makes them so ruthless then?”
“The only reason they are calling for a New Era is because they want more power. The contingency of this proposal is that everyone unites under them. It has nothing to do with wanting peace. It’s all about control.”
This is a concept I can understand deeply because it's something I, too, desire. But I could never tell Kias that. Even if I agree that the San Giovanni's need to be knocked off their pedestals, it doesn’t mean I have no desire to take their place in doing so.
“Shit.” I furrow my brows because I realize I haven’t responded yet.
“Precisely.” He nods, studying my face because he’s always been perceptive. “They might think of me as sadistic or a puppet to my father, but Odessa is a ruling Bratva family. We don’t submit or bow down to anyone. So, tonight I need you to be just as charming as I know you are, as cunning as you can be, and as demanding as you need, to get what we are looking for.”
I ponder his words for a moment more, and he reaches for my chin with his cold fingers.
“You think you can do that?” He brings my eyes to his, studying my face. “For me?” he adds, when I’ve grown completely silent out of nervousness.
“Yes.” I squeak above a whisper. He grins in response, and lets go of my chin, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips.
Before Romeo’s kiss, just Kias’ lips on the back of my hand would have made me feel as if I were dizzy with anticipation. He’s the one I set my sights on, after all, the ultimate goal. But after that kiss–
It’s just nerves because of the mission, what’s riding on it, and what happens if you fail.
That must be why all I feel is nervousness rushing to every signal in my body telling me that I cannot fail. I cannot mess up. This is my one shot because if I don’t exceed expectations, I will never be on another mission that will get me this close to every goal in my life.
He stands to his feet and pulls me up with him as he does. I feel like a rag doll tossed about in a current. His arm wraps around my waist, and he pulls me close to him like there are years between us. But I don’t really know him, and he doesn’t actually know me. My goal has always been to make him want me as his wife–to get to the head of the Bratva that way, and this should feel like a step towards that. Like I’m gaining his trust in my abilities. I try to feel comfortable in his arms, but it doesn’t fit. It's like two wrong puzzle pieces forced together until they are too stuck to pull apart.
When he kisses my forehead, I force myself not to cringe. This is just nerves. In any other scenario, Kias Mikhailov holding, caressing, and kissing me like this would make my heart sing. That has to be it then— just nerves. I tell myself that again as he pulls away from me, looking into my eyes lovingly. His affection still feels misplaced, but I try to accept it and wave goodbye as he slowly backs out of the doorway.
I don’t dare move another inch until I hear the front door swing shut and security locks it. I flop back onto the bed, letting out a breath I had been holding since Kias hugged me and clench my jaw as I shove away every thought swirling about what just happened. There is no way I will let myself get discouraged over such minor details like an awkward interaction in a high-pressure situation.
Time passes quicker than I think it will. I eat my light dinner—hardly enough to ruin my appetite for our date--and finish watching that weird movie with Patrov, only for him to start another and make the entire security team groan in protest. I’m honestly surprised it doesn’t start a knife fight. They like those.
Before I realize it, it’s already 9 p.m., and I haven’t texted Romeo back. I pull out my phone and respond,see you then,and jump up from the couch to start getting ready.
“You have about thirty minutes before we leave,” one of the guys calls.
“I’ll take as much time as I need.” I bite back, and a couple of the boys laugh at the idiot who thought it would be bright to give one in charge of the mission a time limit.
The clothes I laid out are still on the bed where I left them earlier, so I quickly change into them, heels and all, then head out the door and around to the bathroom. Makeup I didn’t buy and don’t wear except for special occasions is waiting for me on three glass shelves on the right side of the long mirrors. I fumble through most of it, doing my makeup nice and simple with a bright red lip and smudgy black winged eyeliner. I pull my hair out of the bun it’s been in since taking a shower this afternoon and let my waves form the way they want, spraying them with a bit of texturizing spray on the opposite shelves on the other side of the mirror.
As usual, I apply my mother's perfume, which has lasted all these years. When I saylasted, I mean the amount, not the scent. Fortunately, it’s retained some semblance of scent to remind me of her, but probably not enough for anyone to smell it on me. I think I look stunning by the end of it, glowing almost. My deep green eyes are brighter with the black of my makeup and dress. My auburn hair is wavy and flows down the back of the dress I’m wearing by— I check the tag— Gucci.
When I’m satisfied with how I look, I check the time on my phone to see it's 10 p.m. on the dot. I guess my message went through earlier about not ordering me around because no one checked on me the entire time I was in the bathroom. My steps clamor down the hall, heels clicking on the floor in a hurry, and then something strange forms a knot in my stomach as I turn the corner. The security team is still in front of their tv, still and quiet.
“I know that movie is not this interesting.” I laugh and click over to them.
I nearly lose my breath when I see the blood.
Patrov– my last oldest friend– along with the rest of my security team, is dead. Throats slit, bodies pale. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but that feeling in my throat is still creeping up, telling me to scream or run and hide. I've buried that feeling too many times for it to keep coming back.Disgraceful.I can almost hear Kias’ voice in my head, his father’s.Unworthy.
I stand still in a daze, completely and utterly frozen with dread and shock. Shock that my last, longest friend is gone, and that I wouldn’t have heard something. In the cold chill of the now empty apartment, I feel for the first time completely and utterly alone. Suddenly I’ve become entirely too vulnerable for my liking, and I need to move because there's a huge possibility that I’m in danger.
My instincts begin to kick in, as if I've been reset to factory mode, and I take a step forward. As my right foot connects to the floor, I step on something that clanks. Slowly I lower my gaze to see a 9-inch blade, still soaked with someone’s crimson blood. I slowly bend down, careful not to make a sound as I pick it up and position it to defend myself in case the attackers are still near. I assess the scene around the men whose faces were so alive and animated only moments ago, and I grit my teeth in defiance of that feeling in my throat again, trudging through the rest of the space where the bodies are strewn.
Once I've determined the area is clear of any signs of life, I head to every door and window in the loft to determine how the perpetrators got in. An attack this specific– knife to the throat, silent, targeted apartment with nothing missing– couldn't have been random. None of the windows are ajar, and the doors have all of their locks, not a screw out of place or bend in their metal.
How the fuck did this happen?Even though there is no sign of the aggressors, nor any danger sensed– and I know how to spot the feeling of danger like a tangible object– I still can’t be totally sure that I’m safe. Not entirely. If there’s anything vital I've been taught for moments like this, it’s that letting your guard down will only get you or the people around you killed.
Shit.I wonder if that’s why I was unable to hear my team dying just down the hall. Because I had Romeo on my mind. Not in the stupid schoolgirl way, but I think I was nervous. Perhaps it was because of the mission, and then again– though I will not fully admit it– a part of it was because of the feeling that surges through the air when I'm near him. Yet, here I am, still lingering down the hall instead of quickly making my way to the bathroom because I'm worried that I might actually have emotions–which I don’t.
The moment I'm inside the bathroom, I lock the door and attempt to take deep breaths to focus my mind on what needs to happen. After allowing myself a couple more breaths, I drop the knife into the sink, pick up my phone, turn on the water, so it washes the blood away, and watch it for a moment. I see the crimson turn to a diluted pink streaming twisting around the rim of the sink and down the drain without a trace left behind, briefly mesmerizing before I force my eyes to snap away from it and grab my phone off the vanity. Quickly I scroll through it until I find Kias in my contacts. I'll need to report this to him. My body is beginning to shake from the adrenaline coursing through my veins, and though I know it's not a weakness, it feels like one because I can't control it. With a shaky hand, I hit the call option and hear it ring twice before it stops.