Page 42 of Beyond the Temptation: Vol 2

That flash is another chink in his armor. I’m getting to him, and in retaliation, he’s trying to provoke me and tip my hand.

“Why did you come here tonight, Mik?” I ask, running my index finger along my collarbone. His jaw clenches again, those icy eyes tracing every touch. “Don’t you have better places to spend a Thursday?”

“I am waiting for someone.”

I wink. “Maybe you’ve already found her.”

That earns me a patronizing smirk. “Unless Bebe is short for Niko or Ava, then no, I have not.”

My head buzzes with the need to demand answers, but I hold back, mimicking Mama’s aloof disinterest. “Oh, you know them?”

“You could say that,” he murmurs, throwing my words back at me.

Now the bastard’s just playing with me.

Mik curls his lips, and I see that flash again like a match sparking in his eyes. “Do you know Zasha Gaheris?”

Fuck.

Didn’t see that one coming.

“You could say that,” I muse, lobbing his words right back at him. “Why do you ask?”

His tattooed hand tightens around the bottle. “I need to find her.”

And I need to ensure you don’t.

My stomach twists into knots. For once in my life, I understand my parents’ unreasonable demands for secrecy—the aliases, the private tutors, the wigs, the no social media accounts whatsoever.

It was all to prepare me for this moment.

Only I can’t get a clear enough read on him to decide if he truly doesn’t know my face, or if he’s playing a game. But it doesn’t matter. He may be older and more experienced, but I can move chess pieces around a board just as strategically.

Never underestimate a Chernov.

“Good luck with that.” I snort, maintaining my composure. “You’d have better luck breaking out of prison.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “Well, since that circle has already been crossed, luck should be on my side, yes?”

Does that mean he really has no idea who I…?

Wait, what?

I replay his words in my head, rearranging them until they make sense. “Box has been checked,” I correct, crooking my finger over my lips to hide my smirk.

His eyebrows draw together. “What box?”

“You said, ‘since that circle has already been crossed.’ The phrase is, ‘box that’s been checked.’”

“Whatever.” He swipes his beer off the table and slumps into his chair. “Fucking Americans.”

Actually, luck is on my side, Iceman. You just delivered a piece to the “Who is Mik” jigsaw puzzle.

He spent time in prison, vacating on his own terms, it seems.

Another silence descends, and I drum my nails on the table.

Think, Zasha. Remember. Notice details.

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