Page 8 of Wicked Proposal

White tablecloths stained red, red, red?—

“Maksim,” I bark, “kill him.”

“No! Please, have mercy! I swear I don’t know anything! I?—”

BANG.

Boyan’s body thumps to the ground.

Thank God. Motherfucker was starting to give me a headache.

Moments later, I hear Maksim’s voice again. “So? We believe him?”

“I don’t know. He pissed me off.”

My second barks a laugh. “God, I fucking love working for you. Never a dull moment.”

“Good to know employee satisfaction is high.”

“I mean, the dental benefits suck, but I digress. Anyway—what about tonight?” Maksim asks, a swift change of subject. “You still going to the event?”

“StarTech’s future depends on this deal,” I say. “And I don’t need to remind you what else is on the line.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

I grit my teeth. Maksim’s cheer clashes with my mood on the best of days, and today’s not a good day to begin with.

Not by a long shot.

“Without Nikita, I’m fucked. Find me a replacement date.”

“That’s gonna be hard on short notice.”

“I don’t give a shit.” My phone cover cracks in my hand as I clench it tight. “And keep looking for Nikita. I want her found.”

Before Maks can answer, I hang up.

Fucking hell.

This had to happentonight, of all nights?

Plus-ones are a status symbol, as much as a good suit and an expensive watch. And the man I’m meeting tonight, Baldwin, is exactly the kind of shallow bastard to care mostly about the arm candy I bring for him to gawk at.

If I show up alone, this deal’s as good as dead.

Meet me there with my date,I type quickly to Maksim.

But as I walk to my car, I realize the problem with that plan.

My car isn’t there anymore.

“What the—” My eyes fix on the bright orange sticker on the ground. A towing company’s details. “Blyat’.”

Furious, I type in the towing company’s number and call.

“You have my car,” I spit the second someone picks up.

An automated voice answers me. “You’ve reached Brownsville Towing Trucks. If you want to report a car, press?—”