He gestures to the expatriate beside him. "This is Alexei Kuznetsov. He owns seven hotels on the Riviera. Alexei, this is Danika. An associate of my family."
Alexei extends a hand, his smile polite but disinterested. I shake it briefly, then let go.
"Beautiful dress," he says, his gaze lingering on the slit. "On a beautiful woman."
"Thank you," I say, forcing a smile like I give a shit about his compliments.
Dimitri wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me in, and I force myself not to stiffen at the contact. "Enjoy yourself tonight. You've earned it. Maybe later we can have a drink."
"Sounds good," I laugh and pull away.
I step back, offering a polite nod before turning and weaving through the crowd. The guards' eyes follow me for a moment, then shift back to scanning the room.
I reach the bar and signal the bartender. He approaches immediately, his bow tie slightly crooked.
"Sparkling water in a flute, please," I say. "No ice."
He nods and turns to pour.
I take the opportunity to look around the room again, my eyes sweeping over the crowd to my right. Politicians. Businessmen. Women draped in diamonds. Security personnel stationed near the exits.
Everything is exactly as it should be, but then the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
It's subtle at first, a faint prickle of awareness that makes my heartbeat quicken. I know this feeling. I've felt it a hundred times before.
I'm being watched.
My fingers tighten on the edge of the bar as I casually adjust my posture, angling myself to use the mirrored pillar close to me as a reflective surface. My eyes dart across the crowd behind me, searching for the source of the gaze.
Dimitri's guards? No. They're focused on him, not me.
Casino security? Possible, but unlikely. They're trained to watch the floor, not individual patrons.
Then who?
I scan faces, movements, anything and everything. A man in a gray suit near the roulette table. A woman in a silver gown by the staircase. A waiter carrying a tray of small plates of food.
Nothing.
The bartender sets my sparkling water down, and I murmur a thank you, wrapping my fingers around the stem.
I'm being paranoid.
It's the job. The stakes. The fact that I'm about to break into the penthouse of one of the most powerful men in the Bratva and download everything from his encrypted tablet. Of course I'm on edge.
I take a sip of the water, letting the bubbles fizz on my tongue.
Focus, Danika.
I have a security system to crack. A tablet to access. A loyalty to prove.
But as I set the glass back down, the sensation doesn't fade. It lingers like a weight pressing on my chest.
And deep down, beneath the logic and the training and the iron control I've spent years perfecting, my pulse beats with a familiar, dangerous anticipation.
A feeling I haven't had since I saw his face in a dark office in Constan?a.
11
