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I nod in frustration. “Would you relax, Doll? If you don’t want to out yourself, you need to make it look like you’re here for the game.”
“But I’m not. I’m here for Mikhail.”
“And as soon as he sees you, he could act out. What do you even plan on saying to him anyway?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just explain the situation more, I guess.”
“Why don’t you tell him what you want rather than what Pavel would want you to?”
I hadn’t even realized that. I feel as if I failed Pavel. Explaining myself was my way of making amends for fucking up the situation. But Pavel isn’t here. Mikhail is—and I want Mikhail to understand me.
We reach the bar and look at the menu. “They must like Moscow mules—that’s like the only thing on the menu,” I say.
“That’s Nina’s favorite for this kind of game,” the bartender tells us. He’s about my height with short blond hair.
“Why is that?” I ask.
“She says it masks the alcohol taste, and it makes it more fun when people don’t know how drunk they’re getting,” Max adds.
That’s funny. I never thought of it like that. I’m beginning to think Nina and I will get along better than I thought we would.
“We’ll take two of whatever flavor—surprise us,” Max says.
“How many times have you come to this event?”
He leans his weight on the bar top and turns his head toward me. “Many times. When Nina and I were young, we would tear apart the dessert table.”
“And now it’s the bar.”
“Well, not for her. She and Mira can enjoy the dessert table this year.”
I laugh as we tap our copper glasses together and drink the entire thing. “Nina would be proud,” he tells the bartender.
He grins as he mixes more drinks.
I put the empty cup down on the bar and look at Max. “You ready now?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
We run out of the room, my dress weighing me down. I take my heels off as I race up the marble stairs. Looking around, I see the walls are covered in art. I feel as if I’m in Europe right now. The style of this building is insane.
“Come on!” I shout to Max as he takes his sweet time walking up the stairs. I rush back down to him and grab onto his hand, pulling his arm to get him to walk faster. Am I delusional for thinking Mikhail is capable of killing Giovanni? Max doesn’t seem to be worried at all.
When he meets me at the top, we look around the corner to see if anyone else is up here. There are a couple of people running out of a room.
“Why don’t we—?”
“Shh!” I interrupt. I duck behind the wall quickly when I see a man with red in his hand step out of the room.
Max stands on the opposite side of the wall, the archway separating us.
“Do you still see him?” I whisper.
He nods his head slowly as he backs up more.
We should go back downstairs, but I don’t want to. This feeling is incredible. I can understand why they made this a tradition.
“Shit. He’s coming,” he tells me as he runs across the opening quickly. I begin to laugh, but he covers my mouth with his hand. “You have to be quiet.”
