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One-Eye glances behind him at the man seated in the shadows. It’s only for a moment, barely even a look. “We’re not after money.”
“I wasn’t talking toyou,” I grumble with a pointed glare. I tilt my chin in the mystery man’s direction. “If you’re going to be an asshole and nab me right off the street, the least you can do is show me the courtesy and respect to address me directly.”
A heavy silence blankets the room.
“You’re awfully calm for someone in your position,” a deep, low voice rattles my eardrums. For a moment, the sound of his words leaves me breathless. I’ve never before heard a more enticing and captivating voice.
“Show yourself,” I command. “Or are you going to be a little bitch the whole time and cower in the shadows?”
Mr. Charming cackles, grinning so wide he looks almost maniacal. “Oh, Ireallylike her, Boss.”
“Stand down, Closer,” the Boss says.
I laugh in disbelief. “Seriously, code names? What, are we in the fifth grade or something?”
The Closer shrugs. “Can you blame us for wanting to be anonymous?”
“You could have at least chosen something cooler.”
He clicks his tongue. “I tried, but they voted against my suggestions.”
“How my heart weeps for you,” I reply dryly. I return my attention to the Boss. “Come on, man. Tell me what you want, and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”
The scrape of chair legs against the tile floor. I can just make out his movements in the dark. He slowly stands and takes a few steps forward, the heavy thud of his shoes rattling around inside my skull. I hold my tongue, heart pounding in my chest as the man in question approaches, bringing along with him the unmistakable scent of a spicy cologne. I breathe it in, perhaps deeper than I should, suddenly intoxicated by the warmth of his smell. When he finally steps into the light, it takes all my strength not to let my jaw hit the floor.
He’s gorgeous.
Painfully so.
His black hair is peppered with streaks of grey at the temples, his dark eyes cold like a shark’s. There’s a rigidity about him I can’t help but admire. It’s not an awkward stiffness—more like the beautiful and purposeful cuts of a fine marble statue. His presence seems to suck out all the air in the room, his authority silent, undeniable—
Anddangerous.
I know a killer when I see one. Growing up in the Antonov Bratva has taught me to recognize the signs. While my family tries not to get their hands dirty, many of our men do. Deals gone wrong. Insults. Accidents. Death in the Bratva business is just like any other workplace hazard. Avoidable if you’re careful, guaranteed if you’re not.
You can tell a killer apart by the way they hold themselves, tense—like they’re walking on eggshells. It’s in their eyes—any trace of hope dimmed forever. I’m convinced killing a fellow human fundamentally changes a person, casting their features in a hardness that turns them into stone. The Boss has all of these characteristics and then some. Yet he’s breathtaking.
“You should mind your tone with me,” he says gently. We both know there’s no reason for him to raise his voice or use a forceful tone. This is what control looks like, whatpowerlooks like. He can command the room without losing his cool—a feat not many are capable of achieving.
“You should mindyourtone withme,” I say just as gently. “Do you have any idea who I am? The moment you laid a hand on me, you signed your own death warrant. Release me now, and I’ll make sure your demise is quick and painless.”
The Boss leans in, his hands braced on either side of me on the chair’s arm rests. He’s close.Tooclose. Every inch of my body is suddenly alight, my insides burning with a strange wash of nervousness and… hunger. My eyes flick down to his lips, perhaps for a moment too long. When I look back up to meet his gaze, I’m caught off guard by the devilish glimmer behind those cold, dead eyes.
“Sandra Antonova,” he says. The sound of my name rolling off his tongue snatches the air straight from my lungs. “Daughter of Mikhail Antonov and the heir apparent to the Antonov Bratva. Yes, I knowexactlywho you are. And you’re the key to getting everything I want.”
Chapter 2
Andrei
The moment I get the words out, Sandra immediately uncrosses her legs and tries to kick me in the groin. I’m prepared for it, could see the thought boiling behind those pretty blue eyes of hers. With one hand, I’m able to grab her by the knee and force her down.
“Easy, princess,” I say lightly. “This doesn’t have to be hard. All you have to do is be a good little girl and—”
She slams her head forward, nailing me with a perfectly placed headbutt. Thankfully, the difference between our angles means she can’t put all her strength behind the move. Still, I’m forced to take a step back, growling as I check my nose. Thankfully, I’m not bleeding. A good thing, too, because I’d hate to ruin my favorite suit.
“Touch me again and I’ll bite your fucking hands off!” she hisses, her plump upper lip curling into a sneer.
I guess it’s true what they say—redheads reallyarefiery.
