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“There will be a car downstairs to take us there. Be down in fifteen.”
Before I can ask him any more questions, he turns and walks towards the elevators.
Misha has had plenty of meetings this last week, but this is the first time he’s asked me to accompany him. Will this be a normal part of the job? Should I bring my computer? A notepad? A rosary?
I rush to the bathroom for a quick pee and then I go down five floors to find Rowan. She’s at her desk, popping Sour Patch Kids into her mouth like it’s the last bag on Earth.
“Hey, you!” She looks up at me and blanches. “Oh, dang, girl. You look pale.”
“I’m supposed to go with him to a meeting,” I hiss. “To Ivanov Industries.”
“No way! You’re entering enemy territory.”
I almost forgot about that part. “Why is Ivanov Industries considered enemy territory?”
“Honestly, I don’t really know,” Rowan admits. “But as far as the gossip goes, there’s bad blood between Mr. Orlov and the CEO of Ivanov Industries. They say it’s personal.”
“So I’m not wrong to be nervous?”
“You’ll be with Misha, right? Then you’ll be fine,” she says confidently. “Trust me: that man is a force to be reckoned with. Nobody screws with him.”
“Except the CEO of Ivanov Industries, apparently.” I check the time. “Shit, I gotta go. He wants me downstairs, like, right now.”
“Then you better go. Good luck!”
I wave goodbye to Rowan and dash downstairs, clutching my pendant for good luck the entire time.
When I reach the ground floor, I push through the revolving front doors to Orion Enterprises and find three massive, armored vehicles parked along the curb. I glance down the block to see three more. I feel like we’re about to storm Normandy.
Misha is already standing by the door of the glistening Rolls Royce at the front of the procession. “You’re late,” he snaps the moment he sets eyes on me.
I check the time again. “You told me to be down in fifteen minutes.”
“And sixteen minutes have passed.”
Sighing, I don’t even bother fighting back. I just get into the rear seat of the black Rolls Royce.
Misha joins me. The car is huge, but he dwarfs it. More than an arm’s length between us and it still feels far too close for comfort.
For five minutes, he taps away on his phone and the car doesn’t move. We idle in silence. I’m about to say something when he suddenly throws his arm up and pounds on the roof of the vehicle twice.
Instantly, we’re going.
“Um, I have a question,” I mumble when my heartbeat has slowed again. I’m still twisting my pendant between my fingers.
“Ask it.” He doesn’t look up from his phone.
“My NDA was very specific about not having anything to do with anyone associated with Ivanov Industries. And now, we’re going there. So is that… allowed?”
“You’re going there with me,” he explains bluntly. “That’s the difference.”
“Got it,” I squeak. “No more questions.”
We spend the next twenty-five minutes in silence. When we finally arrive at Ivanov Industries, I can’t help but admire the tall, bronze behemoth of a building. It looms over the surrounding buildings and glimmers in the sunlight. My gut churns with an uneasy feeling as we get out.Enemy territory,Rowan called it.
Maybe we really are about to launch an invasion.
I shake my head and turn to see what’s happening behind me. Men in dark suits and earpieces flank Misha on both sides, swirling like Secret Service. I feel grossly out of place.
