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“Very observant. Impressive.”
She grouses at my compliment. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me or my mother.”
I jerk my head at the photos. “It has everything to do with you, Galina. The reason I’m buying your dance studio is because it’s part of my plan to destroy Yevgeniy.” Saying it out loud makes my heart beat quicker.
Galina’s scowl twists her whole face up.
“You think I’m lying,” I continue. “Tell me, have you ever noticed anything strange about your studio? Anything slightly off in all the years you’ve grown up there?”
Suddenly she can’t look me in the eye. “I don’t know what you mean,” she stammers. “It’s just a normal dance studio.”
“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
There! The defiance is back in her glare. “You’ve been there, Arsen. Anything strange can be blamed on the fact it borders the seedier parts of the city.”
Crossing my arms, I move around her to study the photos closer. “Whatever you think, I’ll say it plainly. Yevgeniy is a cruel man. He has no qualms about hurting people.” My finger runs down a picture of Galina, her head tilted low, face in shadow as she mourns her dead father at his funeral. “And he clearly has some interest in you and your mother.”
“It looks like you do too.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I note that Galina hasn’t moved. The exit is right there, but she ignores it. Good.
“Only because of his interest.” I turn around. “My interest is in keeping you two safe from him.”
“That’s why you kidnapped me, right?” She throws her arms down with a sarcastic laugh. “You have a funny idea about what protecting somebody is.”
“The rules are different in the world of the Bratva, ptichka. If I didn’t act tonight, Yevgeniy would have reached you first.”
“And why should I trust the word of a murderer?”
This dance again. Her accusation rings hollow—not because she’s wrong; oh no, far from it—but because she doesn’t know the full picture.
“Because the man I killed was following you.” The color drains from her face; she’s starting to feel the weight of my news. “He was one of Yevgeniy’s boeviks. He was watching you at your studio before tailing you to Tsar’s. One word from his boss, and he’d have cut your throat without you even seeing his face. You didn’t notice him once, did you?”
“You don’t know that,” she argues, but her voice is frail.
“You have no idea how much more I know than you.” Closing the gap, I stand over her. In the cloak of my shadow, she looks smaller than ever. This is my chance to push her over the edge and guide her where I need her to go. “Do you want to live, Galina?”
“Of course I do.”
“And do you want your mother to live?”
“Yes!” she snaps.
“Then there are two conditions.” Lifting my hand, I spread two of my thick fingers in front of her. “The first is that you must stop trying to sink our business deal. You’ll agree to sell your studio to me.”
Galina eyeballs my fingers, then she meets my stare evenly. “And the other?”
It’s a struggle not to smirk. “You will stay here, in my mansion, with me.”
Her jaw trembles. She’s not afraid; she’s trying not to say something she’ll regret. “For how long?”
My lips twist into a cruel smile, and I feel my heartbeat quicken as I dictate my terms. “Until I have what I want, however long it takes. And then, only then, will you be allowed to leave, Galina.”
She closes her eyes, allowing her thick lashes to drape across her cherry-tinged cheeks. I’m positive she’s considering my words carefully. Weighing them … searching for other options, or for any hint of a lie. After a minute, she opens her eyes again, but she doesn’t look at me. Her attention is on the wall of photographs. One by one she studies them, as if inscribing them into her memory.
Her hand touches her throat, the way I saw her do earlier. Only then does Galina, this fascinating woman, hold out that same palm to me.
“All right.” Her reluctance isn’t subtle.
