My heart slams against my ribs. "You're asking me to leave Andrey?"
"I'm asking you to be smart." He moves closer again, this time stopping just in front of my chair. "Your father was a brilliant strategist. He understood that alliances are built on mutual benefit, not sentiment. If he were alive, he'd tell you the same thing I'm telling you now. Andrey Melnikov is a dead end. I am the future."
For a moment, I'm afraid I'm going to throw up. The nausea rises so fast, I have to swallow hard to keep it down. This man is suggesting I betray Andrey and align myself with him instead. And he's doing it with perfect manners and a charming smile, like he's offering me a business opportunity instead of asking me to destroy Andrey.
I force myself to smile pleasantly. "That's quite an offer."
"It is." Anatoly reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from my face, his fingers lingering against my cheek. "Think about it, Mariya. You're wasting your potential on a man who will never give you the life you deserve."
I don't pull away from his touch, even though every instinct screams at me to. I just sit there, smiling, waiting for Andrey to burst through the door and end this nightmare.
But an hour passes. Then another.
Anatoly drills me politely about my father. What businesses did he run? Who were his closest allies? What territories did he control before his death? I answer carefully, giving him information that's already public knowledge while deflecting anything too specific.
He's good at this. The questions feel conversational, almost friendly, but I can see the calculation behind his pale eyes. He's gathering intelligence, building a profile of my father's old network to see what he can exploit.
And between questions, he keeps circling back to his proposal. How much better my life would be with him. How he could give me influence and power that Andrey never could. How I'd be respected as his partner, not just his woman.
The flattery is relentless, and I hate how skilled he is at delivering it. If I didn't know what kind of man he really was, if I hadn't seen the violence his organization is capable of, I might almost believe he was sincere.
But I do know. And I'm not fooled.
Still, there's no sign of Andrey.
No sounds of gunfire outside. No shouting. No rescue team storming the building.
Just me, sitting in this office, being courted by a man who thinks he can buy my loyalty with compliments and promises.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Anatoly stands. "It's late. You must be exhausted."
I am. My entire body aches with tension, and my mind is spinning from hours of careful conversation.
"I'll have someone show you to a room where you can rest," he continues. "We'll talk more in the morning."
Two men appear in the doorway, the same ones who brought me here. They gesture for me to follow, and I stand on shaky legs.
Anatoly catches my hand before I can leave, lifting it to his lips in a gesture that's meant to be gallant. "Sleep well, Mariya. I hope you'll give my offer serious consideration."
I pull my hand away as politely as I can and follow the men out of the office.
They lead me down a hallway to a bedroom that's surprisingly comfortable. A large bed with clean sheets, a private bathroom, and even a window with heavy curtains. But when they close the door behind me, I hear the unmistakable sound of a lock engaging.
I move to the window and pull back the curtains, looking out into the darkness. No lights. No movement. No sign of anyone coming.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, my hands trembling as reality crashes over me.
Maybe Andrey's not coming, after all.
34
ANDREY
The GPS signal is still dead.
I've checked it so many times in the past twelve hours that my eyes are burning. One moment, the tracking device embedded in Mariya's necklace showed her moving south along the waterfront. The next, nothing. Just empty static where her location should be.
Someone scanned her. Someone knew to look for tracking devices and had the equipment to kill the signal before we could follow. Which means this wasn't some opportunistic grab by a desperate family trying to make a statement. This was planned, professional, and executed with precision that pisses me off. I should have prepared for this. I should have made plans in case this happened.
