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I know she said money doesn’t matter to her.

But it fucking matters to me.

When I see our future, it’s not cramped in a tiny walk-up flat in Malaga, no matter how fond my memories are of those days. Abby deserves more, and I plan to give it to her, no matter what it takes.

I yawn again and head for the patio and Leon.

Don’t think about what comes afterward.

Right now, all that matters is surviving what comes next.

“You need some sleep.” Volkov eyes me skeptically as I join him at the outdoor table by the pool.

“Yep.” I take the drink he offers me. “That’s why I’m going to brief you now, before Abby joins us. Then I’ll go put my head down, and we can talk this through properly later, when I’m in a better state of mind.”

“I take it we don’t have the luxury of time, then.”

“No,” I say shortly. “We don’t.”

Volkov nods, crossing his legs. “That may cause us some difficulty. Setting up the kind of auction you’re talking about isn’t something I would normally rush. These are busy people with important agendas.”

“There’s only one person I’m interested in.” I lean forward, lowering my voice, aware of the shower still running in the other room. “But before I tell you about him, I need to know you’re not planning to involve Zinaida in this. Without going into details, it would pose a significant... conflict of interest for us both, should she be aware who she’s currently hosting.”

“Understood,” he says calmly.

Relieved, I go on. “You mentioned she might have a vested interest in these people herself. Is that from a business perspective or personal?”

Volkov tilts his head to the side. “Neither, specifically.” Seeing my raised eyebrows, he continues. “A little-known aspect of Zinaida’s business is her charitable foundation, which focuses on human trafficking. She houses girls recently rescued from the trade, helps them rebuild their lives.”

My eyebrows nearly shoot through my hairline.

Zinaida Melikov, renowned psychopath—Good Samaritan?

He might as well suggest that Roman Stevanovsky does ballet in his spare fucking time.

“Right,” I say, folding my arms skeptically. “And?”

“She’s had Myanmar in her sights for a while now. More than one victim from the scam farms there has turned up on her doorstep in recent years.”

“Okay.” I remain skeptical. “So what are you suggesting? That I go to her for help?”

“No.” I’m relieved to hear Volkov sound so definite. “But I am saying that she knows these places, and the players. She might be a useful source of information, especially if you’re planning a large-scale operation.”

“Noted.” I give a silent huff of laughter. “But no large-scaleoperation planned at this stage. I’m a one-man show, here, Leon.”

His eyebrows lift slightly. “Dangerous, Dimitry. And more than a little ambitious, given the kind of people you’re dealing with.”

“I’m aware.” I lean forward, my hands clasped between my legs. “So if I’m going to succeed, I need to move fast. And in complete secrecy. Which is why I came to you.”

Volkov sits back, regarding me with a small smile. “Well, I’m certainly intrigued. Do go on.”

He really is a smooth bastard.

“I don’t have a name for the man I’m looking for. I only know that he runs the compound I told you about.” Briefly I tell him what little I know, from what Abby has said. “It sounds like he’s the head of the entire operation,” I say, “but Abby insists he never shows his face—and I need him to. You said you know the people who have the kind of resources and interests I’m talking about. Do you have any idea of who this guy is? And if so, is there any chance you can get him to a one-on-one meeting for a sale like this?”

Volkov’s expression is still as impenetrable as I remember from our meeting in London, but I don’t miss the way he tenses as I speak or the slight narrowing of his eyes when I mention what Abby told me. Though I don’t know the man well, there’s a particular intensity behind his eyes that seems different to the urbanity I’ve seen in him before.Or maybe I’m just imagining it.

“That may be a challenge,” he says. “These kind of transactions require a certain... delicate touch.” He waves his glass in the air with a casual elegance that reminds me of Mak.They should get together sometime.I can just picture the two of them swapping fucking martini recipes.