Page 60 of Under His Control

“Taylor and I will check the cameras.”

“Understood.”

A security office sits beyond reception in a soundproof chamber outfitted with eight monitors and a wall-size touchscreen. Taylor follows me in, her professional mask sliding into place.

“Assistant Manager,” I say, deliberately using her title, “queue the footage for elevator bank three, thirty minutes ago.”

“Will do. This setup is a hell of a lot fancier than what we use downstairs.”

Her fingers deftly move over the console, and the footage comes alive. An empty elevator, then a stop at floor twenty-nine, another on thirty-five. At floor forty-eight, the doors open to reveal Ivan and his entourage already inside.

Taylor exhales. “They didn’t show up on security camera footage on any lower floors. How do they just magically appear at forty-eight?”

“Either they’re ghosts, or they had an express keycard.” I stab the screen to freeze the frame. I zoom in close. Sure enough, in the corner of Ivan’s jacket pocket, I spot a sliver of red plastic. A hotel express keycard.

Taylor nods toward the screen. “That’s executive-level tier. Those cards are only issued to ownership, Mrs. B., the head ofsecurity, and a couple of high-ranking security officers, but only the ones currently on shift.”

“Damas is considered ownership,” I mutter.

His name burns hot in my stomach. My brother and I have disagreed on many things, but this? I forward the footage to the elevator doors opening on my office floor. The camera shows Damas’s office door closed. Then Ivan marches out like he owns the place.

Taylor swallows hard. “No wonder he was comfortable.”

“He was invited,” I reply flatly.

Silence fills the space for a few minutes. Finally, Taylor speaks. “Anatoly, do you think Damas?—”

I lift a hand to stop her. “No speculating yet.” I pivot to face her fully. “Are you all right?”

She crosses her arms. “A little rattled. Mostly angry. Ivan humiliated me.”

“He tried,” I correct. “You stood tall.”

A flush crawls up her neck. Pride, and maybe surprise that I noticed her strength. My pulse kicks up at her resilience.

Part of me wishes I’d killed Ivan on the spot for talking to her the way he did. But that would’ve only started a war.

“Let’s go downstairs. Maybe we can get some answers there.”

CHAPTER 23

TAYLOR

The elevator hums beneath us, speeding toward the lobby. Anatoly stands at my side, vibrating with a dark, coiled anger that makes my stomach flutter for reasons both good and bad.

His jaw is tight. His fists, clenched. The air around him feels heavy.

The moment the doors open, I spot Ivan Smirnov and his goons sauntering across the casino floor. Laughing. Relaxed. Confident.

Tooconfident.

Anatoly’s body goes rigid when he sees them. His hand brushes my lower back instinctively, steering me forward, like he’s ready to shield me if needed.

Suddenly, he peels away from me, stepping forward like a loaded gun ready to go off.

“Anatoly,” I hiss, reaching out and grabbing his wrist.

He stops, a breath away from storming across the casino floor. His nerves are wound so tight he’s practically vibrating.