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All three are now looking my way as I approach them in a room with a high-peaked ceiling, dark wood paneling, and crackly leather sofas and chairs. It even smells masculine, like someone sprayed something spicy-musky in the air. The fireplace, which covers almost an entire wall, holds a roaring fire, and as I draw near, Valentin gets up to add more wood to it. When he does, I see he has a gun on the table next to him and it’s in a couple pieces. Is it broken? And why is it there, anyway?
Gone are the men’s bespoke suits of the night before. But they hardly look casual. They’re all wearing nice trousers with dress shirts tucked in, and Artem added a tweedy button-up vest for a stylish guy-in-the-country look.
Damn, they’re hot. Even hotter than the night before.
And while they still look scary, only because I know a little about who and what they are, I have a sense that they aren’t lying when they say they plan to protect me.
The alternative flashes through my mind, but I push it away. I cross the room to join them, trying to act like spending Christmas Day imprisoned in a mansion wearing clothes someone else bought for me, with three gorgeous but dangerous men, is something that happens every day.
Nothing to see here, folks.
What if they hadn’t dragged me along with them? If Sergey figures out I am a witness, will he really come after me?
I settle into one of the leather chairs. It’s so soft and smells so good, I want to sit there all day. I smooth out the winter white slacks I found in my closet and pull down the cuffs of the matching silk blouse I selected, clothes that cost more than I make in a month. I check the loose bun I threw my damp hair into at the back of my neck because I didn’t want to take the time to dry my hair, and in spite of everything, I feel pretty good about how I look, rocking my new Christmas Day outfit.
“Stunning. Just stunning,” Artem says, nodding with approval.
I guess the right products and clothes make a difference.
He pours a glass of champagne and brings it over. I accept it because what else am I going to do?
But I just look at it.
And as if he can read my mind, he laughs lightly. “Don’t worry, darling. We don’t drug people. At least not very often.”
The other guys laugh at this inside joke, and I take a sip of the champagne, because what the hell. It’s not like I have anything else I need to do.
I look around the room with interest, pretending to check out their books and artwork, but really assessing the security situation, and hoping to identify an escape route. But I can’t alert them to my thinking, so I smile pleasantly, and compliment the champagne.
“Hey, can I ask where are we? I fell asleep on the way here last night,” I say breezily, faking small talk.
“Hudson Valley, honey,” Grisha says.
Honey? I’mhoney?
And I was right about our location.
“Do you always leave guns lying around?” I ask lightly, gesturing to the gun next to Valentin, like it was no big deal.
He raises his eyebrows. “Not normally. I’m just cleaning this one.” He pulls open the table’s drawer and drops it inside.
There are probably guns all over the damn house.
“So Lily,” he continues, “we have a Christmas present for you.”
“What? You do? How? And how did you get these clothes for me?” I gesture to my outfit. I like the clothes, I can’t deny it. A lot. But how they ended up in my closet is puzzling.
Valentin looks at the guys, who nod with satisfaction. “We know a lot of people, Lily. People who can take care of things for us, quickly and quietly. Speaking of,” he says, getting up and crossing to the bar cart, “this is for you.”
My mouth falls open and my stomach flutters.
No. Way.
No freaking way.
He presents me a robin’s egg blue box from none other than Tiffany.Tiffany. One of the famous blue boxes, all tied up with a pretty white satin ribbon.
Forme.
