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“I need to talk to you, Bianca, but Daniil hides you away like the crown jewels. You don’t belong here, in this world with a bunch of Russian gangsters.”
“What are you talking about?” I shiver, hating how uncomfortable he makes me feel.
Jorge steps closer, too close for comfort, but unless I start climbing the stairs backwards, I’m stuck in place. “Emilio regrets marrying you off, losing his only living family member, just like I regret losing you. I think about you all the time,mi alma.”
Liar.
An eerie sensation crawls over my skin. I don’t believe a word out of his mouth. He’s never cared for me, and neither has my uncle. I want to know what he’s really after, but I also don’t want to spend another minute in his presence.
Schooling my expression, I straighten my shoulders and channel the confidence my mother always possessed. She would have shut down this conversation before it even began. “I’m sorry that’s how you feel, but it’s too late. You gambled me away, and my uncle forced me into this marriage. What’s done is done, Jorge. There’s no going back.”
He smirks, sending ice through my veins. And then he leans down, so his face is inches from my own. “Do you think your uncle would just give you away so easily? Do you really believe the Kozlovs are smarter than Emilio Morales?”
What is he talking about? But I don’t have the time or mental energy to try to untangle his words. I have a job to do, and if I do it well, Jorge and my uncle will be behind bars before I find out what’s really behind his declaration of love.
“I don’t have time for this, Jorge. Daniil is my husband now, and my husband is waiting for me upstairs,” I lie, turning towards the stairs.
I don’t get very far before he tugs me back against him. I try to jerk myself free, but his grip is like a vice. Holding me against his chest, he whispers softly in my ear, “Husband. Such a deceiving word. Your place is back in Colombia with your family. With me.”
Blood roars in my ears as venom clouds my vision. If he thinks for one second I’ll ever be with him again, he’s delusional. “Let me go, right now,” I demand, and he does, but not before spinning me around to face him.
“You’re mad,cariña. I understand,” he says in a conciliatory tone. “I regret my actions, not only the night of the poker game, but before that. I didn’t fully appreciate what I had.”
My arms wrap around my body, hugging myself in a protective gesture. “Why are you telling me this now, Jorge? It’s too late for us.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve quit drinking, I’m a better man. Come back to Colombia with me. Come home to your uncle, your birthright. Say the word, and I’ll make it happen.” When he looks down at me, his expression is somber, earnest even. And that’s the scariest thing of all, because this is not the real Jorge, not The Madman I know who’s lurking beneath the surface.
His scarred hands flex, reaching out for me to take his palm. Slowly, I shake my head. “I can’t” is all I say, taking a step back and glancing up the stairs. “I have to go.”
“Promise me you’ll think about it. Call anytime, and I’ll come for you, bring you back to your uncle’s compound in Colombia. You’ll be safe there. I’ll make sure of it.”
My stomach is in knots, but my desperate need to escape his presence has me nodding. “I’ll think about it,” I mutter, and then turn for the stairs.
“I still love you” is the last thing he says.
Fuck me, what was that about?
His retreating footsteps echo off the cement walls as he takes his exit. I take a moment to catch my breath and pull myself together, but I can’t let anyone catch me like this. How would I explain what I’m doing in the back stairwell alone with no guard?
There is no plausible explanation. No one can ever know about this. Even Daniil.
Especially Daniil.
No matter what Jorge’s true intention is, it doesn’t matter. If I’m successful tonight, Jorge will be in federal custody before he can do more damage. And that’s why I must pull myself together and see my plan through.
I take a deep breath and continue up the stairs. When I get to the third floor, I move through the hallways on autopilot, a left and then a right, until I get to Daniil’s office. Yuri is standing sentry outside the door. He takes one look at me, and his features fall.
“Are you okay, Mrs. Kozlov?” he asks, his gaze full of concern.
“I had a dizzy spell,” I croak. “I just feel a little sick and I need to lie down. Is my husband here?”
“He’s not, but I’ll call him. You go in and lie down.” He opens the door for me, and I enter the room. Without thought, I head towards the leather couch I fell asleep on my first time here.
Yuri is distracted; this is my chance. I reach into my purse, removing the bug covered in a tissue.
Yuri looks up from his phone, frowning. “Everything okay?” he asks.
“Just grabbing a tissue.” I dab at my nose and lie back down, rolling the hard nub between my fingers.
