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Kirill, however, ignores me. He’s looking at the front seats with his easy expression, even as he pushes down on my hand.
It’s then I realize that my knee is bouncing and I slowly force it to a halt.
Kirill strokes the back of my hand in an approving manner. I catch my breath, unable to draw in air properly.
“How long until we get there?” he asks, completely unaware of the complicated emotions he’s stirring within me.
“Twenty minutes,” Yuri replies.
“Make it ten.”
“Yes, Boss.” And then he practically turns the car into a bullet.
While I know Yuri is trained in high-speed driving, I still think we’ll crash as he zigzags between cars and nearly hits a truck.
Through it all, Kirill still has his hand on my knee. Or more like, his hand engulfs mine that’s on my knee.
I suspected this before, but I’m entirely sure now. I really hate how much he affects me with his mere words and presence.
And, now, his touch.
My skin tingles, and something on the inside attempts to claw its way out.
Tactfully, I grab his hand with my other one, remove it, and subtly scoot to the end of the seat.
Kirill’s head tilts in my direction, a mysterious look covering his face as he slides his glasses up his nose.
I clear my throat. “Is anyone going to tell me what the plan is?”
“All the pieces will fit together soon enough,” Kirill says.
“Was kidnapping your mother part of the plan?”
“A huge one, yes.”
“Watch your tone, punk,” Viktor warns from the passenger seat, fixating me with his signature glare.
The car comes to a stop in front of a large metal gate. Everyone stays still for a moment, probably being examined by the cameras. Then the gate creaks open, and Yuri speeds inside the enormous property.
By the time we arrive at the mansion's circular driveway, I’m about to vomit from motion sickness.
And I’ve never even had that before.
We step out of the car that’s parked behind a dozen others. We find Konstantin’s men chatting happily with other guards, probably the Pakhan’s.
They stop talking upon spotting Kirill and make way for him. Only two guards are allowed to escort him inside. Since Yuri is staying by the car, I follow Viktor and Kirill to a grand hall.
This place is even more majestic than the Morozov family house, and that’s saying something since that mansion looks royal.
This one, however, has a grimmer feel. In the entrance hall, there’s a huge painting of a war between angels and demons. Blood splashes all over the piece, and gruesome facial expressions are drawn in spine-chilling detail. I can almost hear the horrifying screeches of the mythical creatures.
A big, burly man with a stoic expression that matches Viktor’s opens the double doors to the conference room.
Kirill strides inside without so much as a nod.
Viktor and I follow, then stop when he does.
The dining room is decorated with a gold-themed table, a huge chandelier, and candelabras on the fireplace.
