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“No, Boss. That won’t be possible.” Dima shakes his head. “You see, we didn’t just find her when we tracked her down. We brought her here. Where she would be safe.”
She?
The atmosphere suddenly shifts. I still don’t know who this she is, but Kirill has turned to stone. The already hard muscles of his arm now feel like granite beneath my fingers. I steal a glance at his face and see that his jaw is clenched, a muscle flickering in his cheek. I recognize the signs; he’s keeping his temper in check… but barely. And I’m so damn glad that it’s not aimed at me right now, because he’s terrifying when he’s angry.
“You brought her here?” Kirill says, his voice low and menacing. Twin spots of color mark his cheeks. “Are you out of your fucking mind, Dima?”
Dima splays his hands. “What did you want from me? You told me to fix it. I fixed it.”
“And this is your idea of fixing it?” Kirill barks, raking a hand. I get the feeling he is deliberately avoiding looking at me. “What the fuck did you think would happen by bringing her here? She’s going to… eto pipets, Dima! This is a fuckup!”
“How the hell was I supposed to know what you would want?” Dima snaps a glance at me. “You haven’t given clear orders for anything, apart from your crazy hunt to find this… suka!”
Anger flares in me at his words. I might not know the language, but the meaning is crystal clear. I open my mouth to speak, but Kirill stops me. Everything in him bristles, his fists bunching, and for a moment, I feel more than a little worried for Dima.
But holy shit, the man is hot when he gets like this.
“Poshol ty’!” he growls. “You do not speak about her like that. Understand? I will gut you like a fucking fish.”
Dima backs down a little. “Yes, Boss.” He lowers his eyes. “I still don’t know what you want me to do about her, though.”
Who the hell are they talking about?
I’m starting to get pissed off. Kirill is still not giving me any clues. I’ve just told this man I care about him more than I care about anyone, and suddenly, he’s tiptoeing around something that seems to be a really big deal.
Or someone.
“Okay, I’m getting tired of all this secretive shit you two are playing at.” I glare at Dima and then look up at Kirill, who now looks seriously uncomfortable. “Who are you talking about? Who is this she?” I demand.
I get my reply sooner than expected. Both men stiffen as a cool female voice answers from behind Dima.
“Who do you think?” The voice is a husky, exotic murmur, accompanied by the click of high heels on marble as its owner steps into the room. The atmosphere shifts again. A sense of dread begins to take hold in my chest, and I can’t explain why. I crane my neck to see who it is, catching a glimpse of platinum hair and imperious blue eyes.
The woman who walks into the room shoots me a glance, then turns to face me. Her long, silky hair rolls down her shoulders, accentuating a face that wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of a beauty magazine. Cold eyes pin me in a way that makes me feel entirely inadequate.
“My name is Zoya Vyronov,” she says coolly, a perfect eyebrow arching as she gives me the once-over. “I’m Kirill’s wife. And you are?”
And I’m pretty sure that my heart stops.
