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“Then why is she out here?”
Alexei shrugs. “I didn’t want her to be a total loss. She makes a lovely ornament—as you said, she’s very beautiful. But she’s not suitable for sale.”
The Frenchman appears to consider, his gaze drifting over Ana appreciatively. He’s looking at her differently from the way most of the men and even the women in the room are looking at us—less as if he wants to strip her bare and fuck her, and more the way you might look at a particularly moving piece of art in a museum. He lingers for a long moment, and then turns to look at Alexei, squaring his shoulders.
“I disagree,” he says simply.
“Excuse me?” Alexei blinks. “I’m sorry,monsieur, but I simply cannot—”
“Fifty million. Transferred to an account of your choosing immediately.”
Alexei goes very still. Everyone within hearing distance does as well, turning to listen to the conversation with marked interest as Alexei struggles to formulate an answer.
“You must be joking,” he says finally. “It’s a remarkable jest, but you can’t be serious.”
“I am.” the Frenchman says firmly. “Actually, you’re right. She’s worthfarmore than that. One Hundred million for the damaged Russian ballerina. I’d like to take possession of her immediately. My plane leaves in two hours, and my driver is unused to these mountain roads.”
No. Oh god, Ana, no.I feel as if I can’t breathe. Sofia is staring at Alexei and the Frenchman with mute horror, her face so pale that I’m afraid she might pass out.
“She’s not worth that—people will think I’ve cheated you.”
“I’ll be happy to inform them that you have not. She is worth it to me. Now please,MonsieurEgorov, my time is as valuable as yours.”
“Why?” Alexei stares at him, seemingly unbelieving.
The Frenchman shrugs. “Some of the finest artwork in the world has flaws,MonsieurEgorov. Even Michelangelo’s statues have flaws in their design, did you know that? The Japanese art ofkintsugiis built on the concept that by embracing broken things, filling their cracks and flaws with gold, something that was damaged can become beautiful again. I find that to be a very interesting concept, do you not?”
It’s an impressive argument. If the man weren’t currently bartering for a human being, and one of my closest friends at that, I could almost have liked him. The dumbfounded expression that he’s put on Alexei’s face is enough, as it is, for me to feel a flicker of respect.
“A hundred million,” he repeats, becoming irritated. “You would be foolish not to take it. You said yourself that you cannot sell her.”
“Ah—yes.” Alexei seems to recover from his shock, nodding. “Please, come with me to my office, we can complete the sale there—”
“No need.” The Frenchman motions to a man in a black suit hovering nearby, who steps forward with a briefcase and opens it, revealing a laptop. With a few quick keystrokes, he accesses an account, and holds the computer out to Alexei. “Please enter your information,monsieur.A hundred million, transferred immediately.”
Alexei looks vaguely as if he’s not sure whether or not he’s dreaming. He steps forward, quickly typing in the required information, and with a press of a button, a satisfied smile sweeps over the other man’s face.
“Very good.” The Frenchman beams at Alexei. “Please bring her to me. I wish to leave immediately. She is medicated you say? So she cannot walk under her own power?”
“Ah, no.” Alexei looks faintly pale, as if that information might suddenly change the man’s mind.
“Jacques.” The Frenchman waves to the black-suited man. “Have the driver bring my car around, and two men to help the ballerina outside. What is her name?”
“Anastasia,” Alexei says quickly. “Her name is Anastasia Ivanova.”
A pleased smile crosses his face. “Ah, how lovely. The name of a princess. Another lost and broken thing, if I recall.”
“No!” Sofia screams it, lurching forward and startling the couple still standing nearby. “No, you can’t take her! You can’t! Please, no,ah!”
She screams as the guard standing behind her reaches out, shocking her on the back of her thigh with what I see is a small, compact taser that I hadn’t noticed until just then. Sofia nearly crumples, and the woman standing next to her reaches out, grabbing her arm to steady her.
“She’s pregnant,” the woman snaps at the guard. “Don’t you think that’s a bad idea?”
“My apologies,” Alexei says quickly, striding towards them. “My security is sometimes overeager.” He glares at the guard, who pales, realizing that whether he made a mistake or not, he’s about to be punished for the guest’s displeasure.
“Get out,” Alexei snaps. “Tell someone else to come and replace you.” He smiles pleasantly at the couple, returning his attention fully to them. “I’m so sorry for the interruption, but as you can see, it was urgent business. If you’re still interested—”
I can’t stand to listen any longer. Ana is being brought down from her rigging by three of the guards, two to support her while another undoes it, untying the looped ribbon holding her foot up and unlocking the chains on her wrists. She slumps against the guard like a disjointed doll, her head lolling to one side as the Frenchman waits impatiently for them to follow him.
