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I point at the door. “Get out.”
He puts a finger on his lips and motions for me to be quiet. I may not recognize his face, but I don’t miss the smile or the distinct way he carries himself with blatant fearlessness, a trait many mistake for arrogance or vanity.
My heart starts galloping so fiercely I can hear the blood pumping in my ears. “Gergo?”
He smiles.
Fuck, he’s good. No wonder they call him The Chameleon. My shock turns into fear. Is he crazy? Yan is sitting a short distance away. He can walk in on us at any minute.
I grab Gergo’s arm and whisper urgently, “You have to get out of here.”
“No one saw me come in.”
“It’s not safe.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not alone,” I grit out.
“I know.” He tilts his head toward the door. “Yan Ivanov is babysitting you.”
In the mirrors surrounding us, my eyes grow large. “How do you know? How did you find me?” Please tell me you didn’t follow me.
“I followed you.”
Shit. “Why?”
“I’m worried about you. Back in Budapest, you weren’t yourself. I wanted to make sure you were all right, and just as well I did.”
“Gergo, I’m serious. You have to go. If he finds you here—”
“He looked absorbed in whatever he was doing on his phone. He’s not going to come looking for you. We have a few minutes.”
“What if he’d seen you coming in here? I can’t believe you’d take such a risk.”
“I pushed a rail of clothes in front of the entrance to the changing area.”
Going on tiptoes, I peer over the door. A rail of clothes shoppers had tried on but not taken does indeed block the view. I look back at my ex-teammate. The judgment on his face makes me cringe. “It’s not what you think.”
“You’re living at his place. He brought you clothes shopping. What must I think?”
“I’m doing a job for him.”
“A job? You’re working for the Russians now?”
“Kind of.”
“They were going to kill you. You said you escaped. What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“Fine.” He pulls a gun from his waistband. “In that case, I’ll just take him out now. He won’t even see it coming.”
At the sight of the weapon, my heart slams into my ribs. The idea of anything happening to Yan makes my palms sweat and my temples throb with my quickening pulse. I don’t stop to analyze these symptoms. If anything, I should encourage Gergo to carry out his threat. Instead, I grab his arm again and whisper-shout, “No.”
He stills, but he doesn’t put the gun away. “Is he blackmailing you?”
I rub my neck, my fingers playing over the small bump in my nape. “It’s complicated. I don’t want to get you involved.”
“I’m already involved.” He lowers his head to put us on eye level. “Talk to me, Mink. I want to help you.”
“Gergo, please. I beg you. Just go.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”
I’m getting increasingly nervous. If Yan decides to check on me, one of them will definitely end up dead. “I can’t. Please, Gergo. I just can’t.”
Hurt spills into his eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”
“What? No! You know I do.”
“Then what’s the issue, sweetheart? Why won’t you let me help you?”
Groaning, I spear my fingers through my hair. “You have to go. Now! He’ll come looking for me. I’ve taken too long already.”
He tucks the gun back into his belt and grips my shoulders. “Go out, parade for him, then come back in here and tell me what the hell is going on.”
“I can handle myself.” My harsh tone is meant to chase him away. “I don’t need you to save me.”
Gergo isn’t deterred. He turns me to the door, unlocks it, and all but pushes me out.
It takes a moment to find my bearings and put my mask in place, but I was worried for nothing. When I get back to the waiting area where wealthy men sip vodka on the house while their women spend their money, Yan is still reading something on his phone, his attention definitely elsewhere.
I clear my throat, and he lifts his head. The look in his eyes makes me shiver. It’s hateful and cold, nothing like the heat he shows me in bed. It’s a view into the part of him that grew up in the streets, committing acts to survive nobody should ever have to. But as he drags his gaze over me, the cold-hearted, cruel gleam disappears, the dangerous, soulless man I glimpsed replaced with my calculated assassin and skilled lover.
The calculated part approves of my look. It says I’ll pull off the part of Natasha Petrova. The lover who claims he owns me doesn’t like how much skin I’m flaunting. He frowns as he focuses on the low neckline and short hem.
“It’s two sizes too big.” God, I hope I sound normal. “It’ll fit tighter with the body pads.”
