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Fuck.
This is big.
I don’t know what I thought Konstantin’s hackers would uncover, but it wasn’t this.
A thought slithers into my mind, a suspicion so awful my stomach turns over. “Do you think it’s the—”
“Leonovs?” Konstantin sets down his bread. “I doubt it. My guys have come across their hackers’ work before, and this doesn’t feel like it.”
“Feel like it?”
Light glints off the lenses of his glasses. “It’s hard to explain to a non-techie, but yes. There’s a certain sloppiness to the way this was done that doesn’t fit the Leonovs.”
“I thought you said it was professionals.”
“There are different levels of professionalism. My guys are top notch, the Leonovs’ team isn’t far behind, and many are way, way worse. These guys are somewhere in the middle, which is why I think my team’s going to come through for you. They just need more time.”
I take a breath and let it out slowly. Just the possibility that Chloe could’ve been hired by my enemies is enough to spike my blood pressure. But Konstantin knows what he’s talking about, and if he doesn’t think it’s them, I have to lay that suspicion to rest for now. Besides, if the Leonovs knew enough to plant Chloe in my compound, I doubt they would’ve sent a guy on a motorcycle as a warning.
There would’ve been no warning, just straight-up war.
“About the biker,” I say. “Any luck tracking him down?”
“No. And that does have Leonov fingerprints all over it. If I had to guess, Alexei’s pissed that you’re here, interfering with his bid.”
“You’re probably right.” I fall silent as the waiter brings out our food. Once he leaves, I continue. “He must’ve found out about my meeting with the Commission head.”
“Valery’s doubling your security until then, just in case. Now”—Konstantin drizzles dressing onto his Greek salad—“let’s discuss your talking points for tomorrow.”
And as he goes over the technical specifications of our product, I do my best to focus on his words instead of the growing number of questions about Chloe and my increasing obsession with her.
37
Chloe
I’ve never felt as giddy as I do this Sunday. All day long, I catch myself smiling uncontrollably and walking around like I’m floating on a cloud. It’s embarrassing, really, but I can’t stop. Each time I think about last night’s call, my pulse races with excitement.
Nikolai wants me.
He misses me.
He wants us to be exclusive.
I feel like a teenager whose movie star crush just asked her out on a date. Which, in a way, is what’s happening.
Nikolai wants us to date, or more precisely, to be in a relationship.
It should seem crazy, and on some level, it does. We’ve known each other less than a week, and for the past couple of days, he hasn’t been here in person. It’s way too soon to be talking about exclusivity, much less destiny and fate. But I can’t deny the strength of the attraction that burns between us, of that powerful, magnetic force that’s terrified me from the start. It wasn’t the attraction itself I feared, though—it was getting hurt. I was afraid of falling for a man who, at best, thought of me as a few nights of entertainment. But that’s not how it is for Nikolai. He made that clear last night, and though it may be naïve of me, I believe him.
I see no reason for him to lie to me.
There are other obstacles to our relationship, of course—like his status as my employer and the fact that I’m on the run from a pair of ruthless killers. At some point soon, I’ll have to disclose that, and I have no idea how he’ll react. But that’s a worry for another day.
Right now, all I want to think about is seeing him on my computer screen tonight.
* * *
“Someone chasing you?” Alina inquires at dinner, and I freeze, my heart stopping for a second before I realize she’s referring to the speed with which I’m devouring my food.
“Just hungry,” I say after I swallow. “Sorry if I’m being rude.”
She shrugs her graceful shoulders, which are left bare by her strapless evening dress. “I don’t care. Just curious why you’re in such a rush.”
I’m in a rush because I’m dying to get up to my room in case Nikolai calls early, but there’s no way I’m telling her that. “No reason other than yummy food.”
Slava giggles at my side. “Yummy. I like yummy in my tummy.”
I beam at him. “Yes, you do.” We’ve spent all day learning various words and phrases, including this little rhyme, and I’m beyond pleased he remembers it.
“At this rate, you’re going to have him speaking English in a week,” Alina says, cutting a piece of chicken and placing it on his plate.
I grin at her. “I hope so—but more realistically, in a couple of months.”
She smiles back at me and resumes eating, and I do likewise, eager to be done and ensconced comfortably in my bed with the laptop. Like Alina, I’m wearing an evening gown, and I’m looking forward to changing into my pajamas. Although… maybe I shouldn’t. Nikolai might enjoy seeing me like this, even through the camera.
