Page 62 of The Agreement

All the while, Leonid continued mumbling into the phone outside, but his body language hadn’t changed. He still spoke to the woman he called Katina, threatening her without even taking a breath in between.

Roman’s mind raced to catch up even though it might have been a smarter choice to turn away and pretend he hadn’t heard a thing. Except ... he knew how significant this information was—even if he wasn’t personally involved in the ploy to execute the pakhan of a bratva.

It could potentially start a war. If Maxim was assassinated tomorrow, the rest of Chicago would be running around like a flock of headless chickens. Men with too much control, entirely out of control. All vying to come out on top of an already bad situation, and probably willing to make it worse if that meant a better seat for them in the end.

It was just how this shit worked.

Something else made him pause, too. Roman didn’t know where his own loyalties rested here. And he was pretty sure that simply overhearing what he assumed to be a plot against the boss wasn’t enough to actually bring to the man and say it was fact—especially not against a man as high in the organization as Leonid.

What proof could Roman show for that? He had nothing to go on but the edges of an overheard conversation. And wasn’t there a warning somewhere for messengers delivering bad news?

Yeah.

Nothing about this was good.

The information he now had was dangerous, and he was all too aware that he had a very short time in which to decide whether to tell it to someone, or not.

Outside, Leonid ended the call and through the crack, Roman waited as the man walked away. Until he was altogether out of sight.

He remained in the bathroom, not moving an inch until the echo of footsteps finally came to a stop ... or was too far away for him to still hear. Feeling too dazed to step out, Roman scrubbed a hand down his face, and tried to shake off the heavy questions banging around in his mind, and the weight now pressing down on his shoulders.

A sense of ... responsibility.

He hated that.

A part of him wished he hadn’t lingered.

Hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

THIRTEEN

Karine tried to admire the sight of her reflection staring back, but she couldn’t even do that considering the reason why she was even standing there looking like she did in the first place. She had been dressed and made-up for him ... and everyone else. Before the night had even begun, she already knew she would look perfect tonight because Masha had one responsibility when it came to the evening ahead. To make sure Karine looked her very best because that was what was expected from them both.

The only thing that was expected, really.

Everything else was up in the air.

It was for the best, but she didn’t even like the dress Masha stuck her in. The satin number, a shimmery, cream-colored cocktail dress, that stuck to every curve and crevice of her body with spaghetti-thin straps barely doing a decent job of holding the material up. When she looked at herself in the mirror, for a second, she thought she was nude.

Body on display.

A low dip in the front, and even deeper in the back.

There was no hiding the way the satin lay unforgiving against her frame, giving everything away with each turn of her body without truly showing it off. Not that it mattered. Karine wasn’t one to show off anything.

However, Masha selected the dress for the evening because it would draw attention to Karine. Show off her beautiful figure. Make her father and Dima proud to claim her as their property.

A way to say look at what is ours. As if they didn’t already say it enough.

Tonight was the night.

The night after which there would be no going back. Karine couldn’t stop herself from hyperventilating the longer she was forced to stare at her reflection.

She didn’t like her hair like it was, either. All neatly tied in a bun and pinned back from her face. She preferred it when it was left open and free flowing, then she could use it as a veil to hide behind, if needed. But they needed everything about her to be ... pure tonight. Perfection.

It was only when Masha came over to touch up her makeup one last time before they left that she noticed the way Karine was breathing. Her chest rose and fell heavily, skin tightening around her collarbones with every fast breath, and her face had even started to pink from the stress. The bigger problem?

The tears in her eyes.