Page 7 of Violent Pawn

Iwasn’t supposed to meet her until after the show, but it dawned on me all the ways kidnapping her could be challenging. With her father in attendance, she’ll probably be dragged around to all the other wealthy and elite afterwards. Therefore, I needed to immerse myself in her life sooner rather than later and attempt to intrigue her enough that she’d agree to meet with me.

What I didn’t count on was feeling sick to my stomach the entire time.

I came to Poland already dismayed by my orders, terrified to deliver the blonde stranger into an unknown future. Then I met her. Stupidly, I touched the pretty angel with the silky skin, depthless eyes, and smooth hair. At the thought of what could happen to her—how her hair may end up bloodstained and her skin paler from fear and eyes haunted with horror—finishing the job seems impossible.

So I almost immediately claw back my offer, demanding she avoid me. Stay far away while living with the fact that by resisting my Capo’s orders, I may end up trading her life for my own. Dying for a stranger was never in my plans. Mancini will kill me for failing in what he feels is a prime opportunity for what I’m presuming is a much larger war.

However, Anastasia’s response to my indirect insistence she run from me is interrupted by a bang from down the hallway. Two figures emerge from the dark, whom I recognize immediately as Lorenzo and Antonio, two fellow soldiers.

Fuck, what are they doing here?

The lighting is dim, but I turn to give Anastasia my back—shielding her. Lorenzo nods my way. “Nice hunting. Boss wasn’t sure if you’d be able to handle her alone.”

At the same time, Anastasia tries to push past me, but I throw pure muscle backwards, knowing this is the best time to let her escape while also clearing myself in her mind.

I plaster on a smirk for Lorenzo’s and Antonio’s benefit. “She’s one hundred pounds soaking wet. We’re fine. You shouldn’t be seen back here in case the Bratva figures it out.”

Anastasia mutters something in Russian, and at least this part looks real. She’s fighting to be free while I’m trapping her. It’s the making of a proper kidnapping.

“You did your job,” Antonio says. “I suggest you accept our help since you still need to get her out undetected before intermission ends.”

If they won’t leave, I’m out of time.

“Fine,” I tell them and whirl back around. Betrayal and horror swirl in her gaze, yet they’re still eloquently deep enough to haunt me for the remaining hours until Mancini wipes me out. I grip her hands entirely for show, bringing them together as I haul her close enough that my face ends up in the curve of her neck. “There’s a knife in my waistband. You’re going to knee me in the balls, take it, and then run like hell,” I whisper. With a slight twist of our bodies, Antonio and Lorenzo catch my sick grin, so they likely assume I’m whispering horrific threats to her or some shit. “Return to the stage and find people.”

She turns her head into mine, hitting me with the full strength of her scent. Sweet mingled with a sheen of sweat from her performance. “What?”

“Sorry, Signorina Petrov, but you have another place to be. Leave this building as soon as you’re able to. Do it, Ana.”

She blinks, bold eyes wider than a damn planet, before driving her knee upwards. She misses, grazing me as she reaches for my waistband. As I drop to my knees in feigned agony, she meets my eyes and winks. The knife is yanked from my slacks, and she takes off through the door she came from. Antonio and Lorenzo dart after her, cursing, but catch the swinging door in her wake as she returns to the back of the stage and surrounds herself with more people than the Capo would appreciate us murdering.

“What the fuck, Amato?” Lorenzo slams his hand into the door before jerking a finger my way. “Capo will not forgive this. You lost to a fucking girl.”

Between faked wheezes, I grit, “Get kneed in the balls, then come back to me. She’s Bratva. Is this really a fucking surprise? They probably train their women or some shit.”

“Nah.” Antonio sneers. “We all know the Bratva collars their bitches. We’ll have to get her after the show.”

“That was my intention.” Pushing to my feet, I narrow my eyes. “I was convincing her to meet me afterwards, to nab her then, but you two messed it up. She’s the star of the show, idioti, and will be surrounded by others, so it’d be stupid to kidnap her now.”

They share a look before shrugging, apparently indifferent about Mancini’s orders. “We’ll still get her. It’s fine.”

Technically, there’s no we, but if they want to help, thus take the fall alongside me, it’ll be all our necks on the line. As long as Anastasia obeys me, then she won’t be in a position to be captured.

They wander back down the hall to wherever they plan on hiding out, while I use the same door Anastasia escaped through. She’s nowhere to be seen, but since a lot of stagehands are present, I head down the stairs and return to my seat in the fourth row closest to the end right as the lights dim and the curtains lift for the second act.

She appears, head bent as a gentle melody plays. With it, she lifts her head, and her arms move in an arc of fluidity and motion. Her leg lifts in a curl before her body does too, spinning her from one side of the stage to the other.

If she’s distraught by what recently happened, it’s hidden well. She dances as if she’s alone on the stage while maintaining a neutral expression. Her fluid dance captivates the audience, and I find myself leaning forward and gripping the back of the seat in front of me. As lights pass over her sparkling skin, I’m thrown back to moments ago when she was pinned against me.

So. Fucking. Soft. Unnaturally soft.

She’s Bratva. That fact should be a reminder. She’s an enemy of the Cosa Nostra, even if she specifically isn’t to blame.

The night isn’t over yet. I could still change my mind and complete my task for the organization, obeying an order that makes me fucking sick to my stomach.

At some point after the show, she’ll return to the back where her dressing room is. From there, it’d be easier to grab her, drug her, and carry her out the side entrance. With Lorenzo and Antonio hanging around somewhere, it’d be even simpler.

Lights glisten over the glitter painted onto her skin, like a million mini stars that angels fly around. It’s exhilarating being the only one here aware of what they look like up close, and that she smells like lilacs in spring.