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“I’m assuming you didn’t mention our names to Zinaida?” Dimitry asks.

“No.” Leon gives him a sideways look. “I gathered you’d rather remain anonymous.”

“Definitely.” Dimitry’s suddenly grim expression is a reminder of the ongoing rift between him and Roman.

And that I still haven’t contacted Darya.

I know there’s been no chance to do it. Neither Dimitry or I would ever put Roman and Darya at risk by contacting them, not given who is chasing us. But my heart still seizes at the thought of Darya, with a small baby, not knowing whether I’malive or dead. I know how agonizing it was for me when she was in danger last year.

And if you contact her now, she’ll be in danger again.

But that truth feels like a lead weight inside me. Going by Dimitry’s scowl, it’s no less easy for him. No matter what is going on, I know his fight with Roman is hurting him far more than he’d like to admit.

“If it helps,” Leon says, glancing between Dimitry and me, “I can happily guarantee that even if she did know of your presence in her house, Zinaida would never betray you. She has a... vested interest, shall we say, in the particular people you’re hoping to meet.”

Dimitry stares at him narrowly. “I don’t believe I mentioned which people I’m planning to meet.” His voice is calm enough, but I don’t miss the sudden tensing of his body.

Neither, it seems, does Leon.

“You didn’t have to.” He seems remarkably unbothered by being glared at by six and a half feet of lethal danger. “I’ve been in the art business a long time, Dimitry. Those with both the resources and knowledge to appreciate the kind of art you’re talking about, let alone host a private auction for such a piece, are few and far between—which is exactly why you came to me in the first place, is it not?”

His raised eyebrows and the quirk of his mouth are both reassuring and, oddly, somehow familiar. Dimitry must feel it too, because after a moment, he appears to relax.

“We’re here.” Leon turns up a steep driveway lined by lush forest. “Shall we continue this discussion over a decent drink, and after a shower?”

25

Dimitry

Fuck, fuck, and fuck again.

I follow Leon through the Thai villa to our room, barely taking in the breathtaking vista and exquisite luxury. I close the door and smile mechanically as Abby heads straight for the vast bathroom looking out over the valley below. When the door closes behind her, I sit on the enormous four-poster bed with my head in my hands.

ZinaidafuckingMelikov?

She’s on the board of Mercura. One of the extremely elite, and even more secretive, group Roman chose to be founding investors.

Which means that her security isn’t just “excellent,” as Leon put it. It’s fucking ironclad.

Makari Tereschenko oversees security for all the Mercura board members. On the upside, that means this place no doubt rivals the fucking Kremlin. On the downside, it’s more than likely that not only will Zinaida be watching us, but Mak, too.

Regardless of whatever assurances Zinaida gave Leon, the minute she sees my face, she’ll be curious. The question is where, exactly, she’ll take that curiosity.

If it’s to Mak, I’m reasonably confident he’ll keep it to himself.

But what if she goes to Roman?

I know the two of them shared a bed one night, back when they were only teenagers. Despite clearly not wanting to repeat the experience, Roman’s always had a wary respect for Zinaida. Even back then, her “reputation,” as Leon put it, was notorious in bratva circles. Unsurprising, given the rumor that she began her career by cutting off her own father’s cock and balls, stuffing them in his mouth, then stringing him up in his own club.

I’ve no idea what kind of childhood makes a person do that. All I know is that Zinaida Melikov is someone who is most definitely not to be fucked with.

And given that she has a fortune invested in Roman’s business, I’m suddenly in the middle of a conflict of interest I’ve desperately been trying to avoid. Which means I either call Roman or move fast enough that the conflict doesn’t get a chance to erupt.

Let’s choose option two.

I don’t like it. But I like the idea of calling Roman even less.

Liar.