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What the fuck?
TWENTY-THREE
ALEXANDER
Lev gives me a small smile.
Does my confusion show on my face? My mind is racing with all the implications. Is this really an official Kingmaker Society meeting? If so, then why is he alone? I turn to look at the door, but it’s already closed.
The guards are right outside, no doubt.
“Mr. Duke! Welcome. Have a seat,” Lev says, pointing to one of the chairs at the end of the table. I look at it for a few seconds, before moving to sit.
It’s comfortable as fuck, but my body still reacts like I’m sitting on nails. My thoughts are whirring at lightning speed as I try to make sense of the situation. Again, I’m confronted with the direness of my predicament. I’m unarmed on a boat in the middle of the sea.
I don’t even have my phone anymore because they took it from me.
If I’m in danger, I’m as good as dead.
Lev’s smile grows wider and he looks almost predatory.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I thought you’d be happy to see that it’sjustme.”
Lev Semenov is one of the younger Society members—at least, that’s what I think. All the others I’ve met or heard of are older, graying guys. Like around my father’s age, or older. But Lev could be at most fifty, maybe even in his late-thirties if you look at him in the right light.
He’s tall—not as tall as I am, but close—with a body that gives me the impression that he goes to the gym, but doesn’t care about it enough to develop muscles. His hair is blond, but he keeps it cropped close to his head. Beady gray eyes are set deep in his face, and a straight nose overlooks thin lips.
Lev would be the perfect pick to play the villain in a movie. He has the look.
He clasps his thin fingers in front of him, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair and leaning back. His gaze feels like a weight. Fuck, I haven’t said a single word to him.
“Of course,” I say. My voice shakes, so I clear my throat to give myself a second to regain my composure. “I was just under the impression that this would be a bigger gathering. I didn’t expect it to be a meeting between friends.” I pull a smile. “It would have saved me a bit of worry.”
Lev chuckles at my words, and I heave a sigh as discreetly as I can manage.
Just then, a small door behind him opens.
I hadn’t even realized it was a door, it was inlaid so perfectly in the wall. Three crew-members dressed in white step out, bearing trays of crudités, hors d'oeuvres and beverages. They place them on the table, then leave in the same mysterious fashion they appeared.
“Why is that?”
That feels like a trap question. “I consider you a friend. You’ve been vital to the Saint Frederic University chapter of Kingmaker House during my tenure as Head Kingmaker.” From the way his face changes, I know I’ve said the right thing.
Lev snaps his fingers. “Yes, and that’s exactly why I wanted to meet with you alone.” He takes a sip from his drink. I do the same.
It’s a refreshing squash, a salve for my parched throat.
Lev leans forward, resting his wrists on the table. We’re sitting maybe a dozen feet apart, but his voice carries well in the room. “You’ve gained my favor, Alexander.”
I squeeze my fingers together underneath the table. “I have?”
“Yes,” Lev nods. “But this is off the record. I’m not allowed to have favorites. That’s why I wanted to meet with you like this.” He gestures to the guards posted outside the room. “My apologies for all the precautions. I just wanted to make sure that things went smoothly.”
“I understand,” I say, and it’s true. I would do the same thing, so I can’t fault him for it.
Lev’s words pique my interest.
It seems like good news to hear, but what’s the catch? I’ve been in enough negotiations to know that if someone starts with flattery, you’d better pay close attention to the next words they say. The compliments are meant to give you a false sense of security.
