Page 158 of Lethal Torture

I give him a rather grim smile. “Oh, I’ll stay close, Paddy. No matter what happens tonight, when she goes on that stage, I’ll be there.”

And that’s perhaps the greatest risk of all.

Because no matter how much I respect Zinaida’s business, understand her ruthless tactics, I love her far too much to everbe able to watch her engage in an orgy on a stage in front of hundreds of London’s top society figures.

Not least because the part of me that seems eternally attuned to every shift in Zinaida’s mood tells me that no matter the mask she turns toward the world, she is dreading tonight’s revelry as much as I am.

36

ZINAIDA

I’m terrified.

I stand in my fishbowl office, staring blankly at the slow-filling auditorium.

I should be backstage, getting dressed for my performance. Instead I’m here, absorbing the edgy, almost frenetic energy of the room and wondering why the fuck I insisted on doing this.

It isn’t the dance I’m worried about. I’ve danced burlesque since I was little more than a child. The nuance and titillation of it is second nature, and I doubt I’ll ever stop appreciating the mastery involved in giving a great performance, the dramatic effect offered by a truly great costume and excellent choreography. Whipping an audience into a state of heightened emotion and sensual expectation is something I truly enjoy, and under normal circumstances, I’d be quite looking forward to taking the stage again.

Except under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be expected to direct an orgy of overt sexual pleasure after the mask comesoff. And even if I could fudge it by doing what I did at the first ever Winter Ball—direct proceedings in the guise of a dominatrix, giving the orders without actually engaging myself—I’m not entirely sure I have it in me to play the part anymore.

Not after watching Sophie.

But I do need to be on the stage tonight, and be a target. I need Lowbridge to actually believe he can take me out, then take over my entire organization—or, at the very least, blackmail every one of the figures in attendance tonight to bend them to his will.

If I want to shut him down for good, this is the best way to do it.

I just have no idea how to handle the night, or myself, when the dance is over.

My phone rings. I look at the number, then answer it immediately. “Mak. I thought you’d have handed your phone in by now.”

“I’m calling from just outside the mile.” He pauses. “Macarthur Securities, huh? I have to give it to Luke—it’s a brilliant idea.”

“I know,” I say honestly. “I’d never have thought of it myself, and there’s no way in hell the government would ever give me that kind of contract even if I had. But Luke is an outstanding candidate. Agatha nearly turned cartwheels when I told her.”

“I take it you didn’t mention I was backing the concept,” Mak says dryly. “Agatha is hardly my greatest fan. Old tartar had me up before a parliamentary committee after that mess in Afghanistan.”

“No,” I say, laughing despite myself. “I didn’t. And I trust that you will hide the money trail well enough that she won’t suspect, either.”

“Darling.” He sounds almost offended. “I’m horrified you would ever doubt me. Now. Before I come through those doors,please reassure me that you plan to end tonight’s little game after your dance, and once Luke has our Lowbridge problem in hand.”

Temporarily lost for words, I remain silent.

“Zinaida.” Mak’s voice is slightly impatient. “Luke Macarthur might be the closest to a saint of any man I know, but he’s also a man. Don’t ask him to watch you play the starring role in an extremely public orgy. No matter how willing he is to get blood on his hands, nor how much he can own the shadows, there are some kinds of darkness I do not wish to see him lost in.”

“Perhaps,” I say tightly, “you should have thought of that before you sent him to me. You know what I am, Mak. You’ve always known.”

“I know what you’vehadto be, Zinaida, to build what you have. But knowing who you trulyareis why Roman and I sent Luke to you.”

Once again, words escape me, but this time, it’s because I don’t trust myself to speak through the lump in my throat.

“It isn’t only Luke I don’t want to see lost in the darkness,” Mak says quietly. “I’d like to see you put it behind you as well, Zin. You spent long enough trapped in a cage. Whether you know it or not, you’ve earned the right to happiness. And it can exist in our world. Look at Roman and Darya.”

“That’s different.” My voice rasps uncomfortably in my throat. “They’redifferent.”

“No, Zin, they’re not. If anything, the two of them were far more lost and desperate than you’ve ever been. And yet they’ve built more happiness than anyone I know. You and Luke have the chance to do the same. But if you insist on staying in a role you’ve outgrown, you’ll lose that chance forever. That isn’t the ending you deserve—nor the one I know you want, no matter how bloody stubborn you might be.”

Casting about for some kind of answer, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “And what about you, Mak? Are you going to take your own advice? I don’t see you rushing off to settle down.”