29

29


Silver felt the chill before the knock came at his room door. It might have been late in the night, but he was never asleep, bent behind the small working desk in the hotel, his laptop opened in front of him.

The search bar read Mikhail Volkov and his wife.

He breathed slightly in relief, seeing that there were no recent photos of them on the net, only the wedding pictures.

He drummed on the desk, recalling the honourable bachelor he met weeks ago in Chicago. Maybe he could still salvage the situation...

The knock repeated, rapping against the iron door, making it impossible for him to concentrate.

Rap rap rap

The pen dropped from his hand. He sucked in a deep breath, his eyes darting to the door, barely masking the fear.

Silver might have been a desperate man, but he wasn't a fool. He knew that no hotel staff would be checking to clean the rooms by 2 in the morning. No, this wasn't an ordinary visit.

"Please, Mr Silver," a voice called out from the other side, young and male. Silver recognised it. Adrien, front desk receptionist, left side of the counter.

"What do you want?" Somehow he found his voice, speaking clearly, already scrambling up to his feet.

"Not me," Adrien's voice. "There's someone here to see you."

"He said his name is V."

Silver stiffened at the mention of the name. Viktor was here only meant one thing.

There was a problem.

And there was something else. Viktor wasn't a man to be kept waiting. Especially when he was in his turf, in LA where the gang master operated.

Silver pulled open the door, stepping out in his pyjamas. Adrien gave him a look, but said nothing, taking him back to the main lobby where Viktor sat, behind a table, a long cloak covering his skin. He didn't look up when Silver walked in.

Only looked at him when the other man was right in front of him, about to take his seat.

Their eyes locked, and Silver sucked in a deep breath, nearly stumbling back, seeing the fire behind Viktor's eyes and the dangerous killing intent.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," he muttered, staggering over his words.

"I didn't know anyone was going to visit me at 2 in the morning otherwise I would have been down in a jiffy I swear..."

"No one cares about your sleeping schedule old man," Viktor cut in, snapping.

Silver folded his hands under the table, feeling stung but he refused to read any real meaning into it. Perhaps the other man was simply in a bad mood.

Adrien served both men grape wine, pouring it out in identical glasses and setting it on the table before pulling back, going over to his receptionist desk, and resting his head against the counter, like he was about to take a nap. He surreptitiously pulled out his phone, dialing a number.

Neither of the men noticed. Viktor took a sip of the wine, staring at Silver wordlessly till the man shifted uncomfortably, wishing the ground would open behind him and finally, he spoke. Five words that made the motivation behind his visit clear.

"Mikhail needs to be eliminated."

Silver took up the glass cup, his hands managing not to tremble under the close scrutinizing of the other man.

"A blown out public attack would drag Amy into it," he muttered. "Maybe we only need him to back down. Please, don't hurt Amy."

Viktor drew back on his chair, his eyes resting on Silver. "Unfortunately, hurting Amy is the only way to destabilise him. Now choose Silver, do you want to see your daughter again or not?" He demanded.

"Because I need you in the plan, and I need you fully in."

———

Amy was still thinking about Viktor Branov as she headed downstairs the next morning, her brows furrowed into a frown the more she thought of it.

Mikhail's question last night had taken her off guard. She'd searched her mind for the thousandth time, trying to recall all the Viktor she'd ever known.

"I think I would remember a name like Branov," she muttered to herself.

"Unless he used a fake name..." The thought hit her in an instance.

"Good morning Amy."

She was pulled out of her daze by the butler, who stood by the open doorway.

She looked up from nowhere in particular, seeing that she had arrived in front of the dining room.

She walked in, her heels echoing off the tiles, nervous at first.

Mikhail was seated on one of the random chairs, not at the end of the table. The little detail made her smile.

He didn't notice her, his eyes glued on the screen of his phone while he held his chopsticks in one hand, hovering over the plate. He might as well have been eating from the air.

"No phones on the desk Mikhail," she laughed, drawing closer, for a moment forgetting the ever present tension between them. "My mother would have a fit if she saw you."

"Yes ma'am," Mikhail looked up with a sheepish smile, slipping his phone into his pocket even though he had obviously been working on something important.

"You joined me for a meal today," he observed, standing up, pulling out a chair for her.

Amy sat down, placing a napkin on her lap. "It's nothing."

"It's the first time." He reached out, his fingers brushing against hers as he served. Amy felt a tingle where he touched her, drawing back sharply.

Mikhail raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"I can serve myself. You're injured... You shouldn't be..."

"My right hand is perfectly fine mílaya."

"But you hold the gun with your left. That means you're left handed..." Amy stared up at him, her eyes peering straight into his piercing blue ones that he had to stop, halting for a moment.

"You're observant," Mikhail hummed softly.

"I just... Notice things," Amy muttered, looking away from him, grabbing the cutlery tighter than she intended.

"Sure, you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't paying close attention," Mikhail thought, pulling back from her.

They ate in silence, the clinking of cutlery against plates the only sound between them.

Amy found herself hyper aware of every move Mikhail made, her eyes glancing up at him ever so often as he ate, the slight wince he tried to hide when he reached for the glasses.

"I don't want you going to work today," Mikhail said finally, setting down his fork.

Amy's head snapped up. "Excuse me?"

"It's not safe." He pursed his lips, the muscles in his jaw working. "Not until we know what Viktor is planning."

"I'm not hiding in this mansion like some damsel in distress," she said with a shake of her head. "I have responsibilities. Projects. A life..."

"That could be in danger," Mikhail finished for her with a note of finality.

"My life has been in danger since the moment you walked back into it," she shot back, then immediately regretted it when she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes.

Mikhail leaned back in his chair, studying her. "You're right," he said quietly. "But at least let Daniel drive you. Please."

The please caught her off guard. Amy opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. "Fine. But I'm going."

"Stubborn little minx," Mikhail muttered with a sigh, but there was something almost fond in his voice.

"Mr control," she countered, standing up.

He reached out, his hand caught hers before she could walk away. "Amy." The way he said her name made her breath hitch. "Be careful today."

She looked down at their joined hands, at the way his thumb traced small circles on her skin. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she hated how much she wanted to lean into his touch, to let herself believe that he was more than just possessive.

"I'm always careful," she muttered, pulling her hand away, even though every sensible thought screamed for her to hold on, even as he let her go.

The rest of the hours in the company passed in a blink. Amy shuffled through the paper work in her private office, trying to ignore the way Daniel's car sat conspicuously in the parking lot.

She had a perfect view of it from the window. With a huff, she signed off the last papers on the desk, trying not to think of Mikhail's piercing blue eyes.

"Miss," the door opened when she was already packing, a junior staff standing at the door, ready to receive the documents to the HR's desk.

"Thank you Ruki," Amy handed them to her, putting on her bag.

She was halfway down the hall when her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, expecting another paranoid text from Mikhail but it was Richard.

"I'm in LA. At our restaurant. Can we meet? I leave tomorrow morning."

She stepped out of the company, staring at the message, her stomach twisting. Daniel's car honked twice. He already spotted her. And he was waiting.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment. Richard had flown all the way to see her. She typed quickly. "Be there in five."

Then she walked out to Daniel's car, her heart pounding.

"Daniel," she rapped on the front window, peering at him through the glass. He pulled it down.

"I need you to wait for me. I'll be back in 20 minutes. Just... don't tell Mikhail. Please."

Daniel met her eyes, his expression unreadable. "Miss Amy..."

"Please," she repeated, and hated how desperate she sounded. "Just this once. I'll be quick. I promise."