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“Tell my mom you changed your mind and that you won’t be buying the studio.”
“That would be the opposite of generosity.”
“Not to me.”
Narrowing his eyes, Arsen gives me a curious stare. “You’d let your mother end up homeless? And for what? Your pride?”
I jerk forward, spilling a few drops of champagne on my dress. “I’d never let her end up on the street. You’ve got a massive opinion of yourself if you think you’re our only option.”
“I am your only option,” he says sharply. “You won’t find anyone better than me to rescue you from the mess you’ve gotten yourselves into.”
My indignation simmers into a full-blown inferno of disgust. “Anyone would be better than a murderer.”
It’s as if all the air has fled the room. Arsen is immobile, focusing on me with his eyes so intently that I can feel the angry heat emanating from them.
“Oh, ptichka.” There’s a silky danger in his voice now. “That was the wrong thing to say.”
Not wanting to show any weakness, I push my jaw out defiantly. “Back out of the deal, or I’ll call the cops on you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Clearly.” Settling into the cushions, he takes a swallow from his glass. “But if I am, as you say, a murderer,” he sets the glass down, “then agreeing to meet me in person tells me that you’re either very brave, Galina, or very stupid.”
Something in his demeanor has changed. It seeps from his pores, a black, insidious cloud that fills the room until I’m struggling to breathe. Arsen isn’t worried about my promise to call the cops. In fact, he’s practically daring me to do it. Coldness grips my heart. I’m in over my head. Setting the champagne down, I will my legs not to tremble when I rise. “I’m leaving.”
His smile is cruel. “Are you?”
Whirling around, I throw the curtain aside. I’m moving with purpose, but internally, I’m frantically making plans. Don’t look back, don’t scream, just get out and go to your car. From there I can call the police … warn my mother to go somewhere safe until this is all handled. Arsen is dangerous; I knew it from the start.
And he’s right about one thing. I was stupid for coming here.
The hair on the back of my neck rises as I walk. Something’s not right. The only sound in the lounge is the music piping from the speakers. I look around and suddenly realize that it’s empty. Where is everybody? There were at least people—customers drinking and waitresses walking about—when I walked inside. It can’t have been more than a few minutes. And I know Tsar’s doesn’t close this early.
“You didn’t know, did you?”
Spinning, I back up at the sight of Arsen looming over me. His hands are folded behind his jacket, while that same handsome, predatory grin flits across his face.
“Know what?” I demand.
He turns to the right, gesturing grandly at the ceiling, then at the curved bar. “This is my establishment. I own it, Galina. Just like I’ll own yours.”
The revelation is a gut-check. This city has bred corruption longer than I’ve been alive. But to learn that a place I’ve used as a sanctuary to let my guard down, to let loose with friends, is owned by this wretched man … It’s too much. What else does he control? How far do his hands reach?
And when will he stop?
The last wall holding my fear at bay crumbles. Inching my heel backward, I take a second step, then bolt toward the exit. Adrenaline leaves my tongue tasting like battery acid. It makes me faster than normal too, and I burst through the exit with my calves straining. I don’t see the wall of men until it’s too late.
Screaming in shock, I stumble into the chest of the man right in front of me. His hands wrap around my upper arms, digging in, holding me still.
“Let go of me!” I shriek, wrenching from side to side. He laughs, a few of his companions joining in. All of them are big, though none would rival Arsen. Twisting violently to escape, I throw my elbows, searching for something to hit.
“Look at her fight,” one of them chuckles.
“A wild one,” another agrees.
The man gripping me gives me a hard shake. I lose my balance, and he takes the opportunity to yank me against his rough peacoat, forcing my breasts into his body. He lets loose a disgusting groan, indicating he’s enjoying the contact. Horrified, I stare up at his face. His head is shaved. I notice, in my hyper-awareness brought on by fear, that there’s a small raised scar on his left temple.
