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“I won’t say no to you paying me more.” Mila winks, then reaches for one of the bread rolls that’s sitting on the table. She glances at the tipped-over basket. An assassin like her picks up on every little thing. “Your guest didn’t have good manners, did she?”
Shifting in my chair, I reach for my glass of wine. My appetite is gone, but not my desire to drink. Tonight, I have something worth celebrating.
“She’s still learning.” Annoyance flares through me as Mila kicks her feet up and crosses her boots on the table. “And she doesn’t seem to be the only one, I think. Why are you here, Mila, especially in light of your recent failures?”
Ignoring my disapproval, Mila eats another bite of steak. As she chews, she points her fork at me. “I thought you missed me. And I figured you’d want a rundown of what went wrong with Yevgeniy while you were off playing fuck-fuck games.”
I perk up curiously. “You said he showed up but that you couldn’t take the shot. You ask who you have to kill for the good stuff? Well, there’s your answer.”
She waggles a forkful of steak at me. “If you wanted me to blow chunks off some civilian skulls in my way, just say the word. But I distinctly remember that you instructed me to be?—”
“Discreet, yes.” I finish for her. “But I also wanted Yevgeniy dead. Collateral damage be damned.”
Pulling a face, she tears apart the bread roll with her hands. “Pretty sure this one would have made your guest furious. Unless you plan on making her an orphan.”
Grimacing in frustration, I take a long pull of wine. “It doesn’t matter. The plan progresses in a more controlled manner.”
“Because she’s your trump card.”
“Yes.” My grip tightens on my glass. I can’t keep my grin in check. “The game has changed. And Yevgeniy just proved it to me before you showed up.”
“Oh yeah?”
“He called to threaten me.” Swirling my wine, I stare into the red liquid. It’s a crimson pool, reminiscent of the way my enemy’s blood will be shed. “For taking Galina. Now, why the fuck would he care?”
“Maybe he thinks you took something that belongs to him.”
“Exactly,” I say. “And I got just the idea to twist that knife a little deeper for him.”
Dropping her feet from the table, she bends toward me. Mila is young, but her talent in the art of killing is impressive. That, and her ability to rein her emotions in on a whim. With me, though, she has no reservations. Her eagerness at my news reflects my own. We’ve both been patient for too long. We’re done waiting for revenge.
“And how do you intend to do that?” she asks excitedly.
My eyes fall to the floor. Next to my shoe lies the steak knife, the one Galina tried to kill me with. I can still remember how close she came to nicking my jugular. Picking it up, I angle it so that the light dances along the curve.
“Well.” I smile. “All I need is the right proposal.”
10
GALINA
I should have kept the knife.
That’s all I can think about as I rip the green dress from my body, throwing it onto the floor of the bedroom like it’s a useless rag. It joins the discarded heels, the only shoes I have since they’re the ones I arrived in. Ulyana was prescient enough to bring me a few pairs of underwear along with the dress. But now, thinking about that kindness makes me angrier.
She knew I’d need clean clothes because she’s in on the plan to keep me here. It’s easy to be mad at her. She’s what set Arsen off when I was trying to probe him for information. He picked up on how I was subtly leading him into talking about himself. He’s not an easy man to trick.
Remembering how I attacked Arsen doesn’t bring me joy. In hindsight, it was a stupid move. Because he’s right. If I’d managed to hurt him, or worse, kill him … What would have happened to me? Somehow, I doubt his men would have just let me waltz out after I killed their boss.
And if he’s telling the truth about Yevgeniy, killing him means losing the only protection for me and Mom.
But I meant what I said. I hate him. All his efforts to tame me into being his little pet while he does whatever he wants with my life just make me angrier. Covering my eyes, I sit on the floor next to my shoes.
“I have no friends here,” I whisper. “What am I supposed to do?” Is it time to call Audrey? I’ve been tempted more than once. Alone in my room I have endless opportunities, but I’m not positive it’s smart. Heck, I’m still not sure if all of this isn’t some elaborate trap.
Involving Audrey might put her in danger. Arsen can easily use her against me the way he’s using my mom. It’s infuriating to have access to my phone but not be able to make it useful.
Shivering as my adrenaline fades and reality sets in, I place my head on my knees. My stomach rumbles loudly. I’m a reckless idiot ... a hungry reckless idiot.
