Page 72 of Assassin's Heart


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He promised.

The only question is–can I believe in that promise?

Lidiya

There’s no doubt about the dinner invitation when a courier arrives later that day, with a package sent from Grisha. It’s a long box wrapped with a blue bow, and I suspect when I carry it inside that it’s something he’s chosen for me to wear tonight.

I’m right about that. Inside there’s a card from him, telling me that he has a dinner party for me to attend tonight as his plus one, and that he wanted to surprise me–both with the invitation, and with the gift of something beautiful to wear.

It’s not just a dress, either. The dress is the first thing I see–blue, which I would have expected, since he’s so often said that it’s his favorite color on me. It’s a silk evening dress with a deep v-neckline, gathered straps at the top of the shoulders, and a long skirt split up the thigh on one side. Nestled in with it are a pair of expensive silver heels, and a small velvet box that I know contains jewelry before I even open it–although I’m surprised at how ostentatious the earrings that I find inside are.

They’re white gold, set with large teardrop sapphires surrounded by diamonds. They feel heavy in my hand, and I’m a little startled by them. Grisha has given me gifts before, of course–including jewelry–but nothing this over the top.

I glance back at the note, where it tells me that Grisha will be back to pick me up at seven, and then the clock. I have a while still to get ready, and suddenly the day feels far too long, with too many hours stretching out between now and then to fill. I feel like I’m coming out of my skin with anxiety, and I know I’m not going to be able to concentrate on anything else.

I try. I go about my usual day since I’ve been here–a light lunch on the patio, going to lay out on the beach with a book, a nap with an alarm set for five. The day crawls by, until I’m finally able to get in the shower and start to get ready for the party.

As difficult as it is, I try not to let my thoughts drift to Levin, and what he has planned to get me out. I don’t want to seem distracted or on edge–I know that Grisha is expecting me to be over the moon about the party invitation, and while it might be normal to be a little nervous, he’s going to expect it to be a nervousexcitement.

If there were ever a night where I needed to play my part to the letter, it’s going to be this one.

Grisha texts me at seven promptly, letting me know he’s outside. I walk out to see a long black car waiting, and the driver opens the door so that I can slip inside. I immediately see Grisha, dressed in a tailored suit and holding a glass of champagne for me.

“The capstone of our little vacation,” he says with a grin, handing me the drink. “Was it a nice surprise?”

“The best,” I tell him, managing to sound surprisingly sincere, I think. I flash him a smile, leaning forward for a brief kiss before I sit back. “I don’t want to smudge my lipstick.”

“Of course.” His fingers slide through mine, holding my hand in his, and I try to calm the racing of my pulse as the car pulls away from the house. “I can’t wait for you to meet my associates, Lidiya. I know you’ll be perfect.”

There’s a seething, burning anger in the core of my stomach about all of this that I’ve done my best to ignore. I know what Grisha is doing. He’s parading his beautiful mistress on his arm in front of these men to impress them, expecting me to smile and simper and play the part of his trophy. And I’ll have to, for a little while tonight, anyway.

It’s only made worse when we do arrive, and we’re escorted in. I can feel the eyes on me as I’m introduced, see the way the men are looking at me, and the pride on Grisha’s face. I feel like a zoo exhibit, and it’s all I can do to tamp the emotions down as he makes the rounds, introducing me to associates that I smile and nod in response to, knowing I’m not actually expected to remember their names or do anything other than be an ornament.

Sitting down for dinner is a relief. We’re seated about midway down the table, and the first course of salad is brought as wine is poured, and I reach for my glass immediately. The wine is outstanding, at least, and it helps me calm my nerves as the conversation hums around the table.

I have no idea what’s going to happen. Fortunately, I’m not expected to speak. Which means that I’m able to hide the worst of my nerves, focusing on remembering which damned forks and spoons to use instead, so I don’t embarrass Grisha.

We make it all the way to the dessert course when the man at the head of the table–the man who I now know is the boss that Grisha has been working with, stands up and taps his fork against his glass.

“I’d thrown this party tonight,” he begins, his gaze sweeping over the table, “to celebrate the new partnership that we’d worked so hard to develop with Grisha Federov.”

A smile beams across Grisha’s face, proud and arrogant, but I feel a fist-sized knot forming in my stomach. I’ve always been fairly good at reading people–and the man at the head of the table doesn’t look all that happy.

“But today, I received information that what we’d been working on so long wasn’t the deal we’d been told at all. In fact, I’ve received very good intelligence that it puts another partnership that we’ve long held to be one of our most important at risk. And more than that, I’ve received reliable information that the man we thought we were entering into a business arrangement with has, in fact, been cheating us for months.”

I see, out of the corner of my eye, Grisha’s face going pale. I hear footsteps coming from the door, and I see the cartel boss–Jorge Fernandez, he was introduced to me earlier–nod towards someone behind Grisha.

“Grab him.”

Everything turns to chaos in an instant. Grisha shoves me to one side as he leaps up, his hand going to his back as he draws a gun, aiming it at one of the guards coming towards him. That one action has everyone drawing at once, the table suddenly erupting in men with firearms aimed, and I open my mouth, on the verge of screaming when I feel heavy hands on my arms, dragging me backwards.

“Easy, Lidiya. It’s me.”

Levin’s voice in my ear is enough to calm me. The first shots go off as the guards surround Grisha, and I watch as Levin pulls me back, out of the range of fire as I watch in horror as he stands there, wild-eyed as they disarm him.

Fernandez walks towards him, his face dark and stony as the guards push Grisha to his knees, and I see the terror that flashes across Grisha’s face as he realizes there’s no way out.

I’ve never seen a man die before. I can’t do it now. I turn my face into Levin’s chest as the shot goes off, and I hear the heavy sound of a body hitting the floor–a body that I know is Grisha’s.

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