Page 42 of Seduction (Wicked Vows)

“I’m happy that I managed to cajole you into being smart about things,” he mutters, gesturing to the door. “And that attitude still needs to go, wife.” I half expect him to swat my ass when I walk past him, but luckily, he’s too busy procuring bottles of water.

“Where were you?” I ask as I open the door.

“Just outside the door. I was taking a call from the captain and didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh?” I take the bottle of water from him and we begin walking at a good clip, warming up. “Anything important?”

“Oh, yes,” he says as we begin to pick up the pace in unison. “You and I have somewhere to be tomorrow evening.” He grits his teeth beside me.

“Why?” What the hell?

Markov scowls as he keeps pace beside me. “Your father’s arrived in Moscow.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Nikko

It’s been a long, uneventful few weeks at the clinic. Her father has barely been in touch.

Vera and her team start their day at seven in the morning, scarcely taking breaks for meals. I swear Vera would survive solely on coffee and Diet Coke if I didn’t occasionally force some real food into her diet. I can usually persuade her if the food involves grilled cheese, her favorite comfort food.

We’ve fallen into a comfortable rhythm, almost like a married couple. We start with an early morning run together at dawn, followed by coffee and breakfast. This has become my favorite part of the day. She comes alive during these moments, speaking animatedly with her hands as she shares her passions, hopes, and dreams, with a fervor that is utterly contagious. She tries to get me to talk too, but I prefer to listen.

She lives for this. It’s like watching a master artist at work. I stay on the periphery, unless the American douchebag is nearby. I’ll have to have another talk with him soon.

Tonight, we have dinner with her father. He’s kept to himself. At first, I thought maybe he wouldn’t want to see us, and I’d have to pull some strings. I’ve relied heavily on surveillance and convinced myself it was more important to earn her trust for now.

I briefly considered my options. It’s a perfect opportunity to do what I came for, but it’s too soon. I wouldn’t be able to pull it off without making it obvious who the perpetrator was.

No. Ivanov will live another day.

His arrival complicates things, though. The chances of me being exposed as an imposter increase with every interaction with Ivanov. But I’ve been assured that the only person who knows me is Ivanov’s mistress, and I’m equally assured there’s no way he would bring his mistress around Vera.

Still, I tread on a razor-thin line. I remind myself of why I’m here. What my ultimate purpose will be. This is only one more step closer to what has to happen.

“Markov, I don’t want to see my father tonight.” Vera frowns down at the turkey sandwich in her hand. I’ve forced her away from today’s biological threat simulation to get some food. She’s already been working for ten hours straight.

“I know. I don’t either. But we have to play the game, Vera.”

And I absolutely have to be in the presence of her father. Combined with video surveillance from my brothers, my personal observations will be telling.

What are his habits? Does he have a daily pattern he follows? Vulnerabilities I could exploit? I need to observe his psychological profile as well. What is his emotional state? Stress levels? How does he respond under pressure? Is he plugged in with any biometric tracking devices? What’s his physical condition?

“Ugh. Do we really, though?” she asks in a little voice that almost makes her seem childlike. I half expect her to pout.

“I know you’d rather get back into that hazmat suit and lead your team to find the pathogen so you can set up your mock decontamination stations,” I say with a grimace. “But remember, there are no real infected civilians here and you were so successful with the last threat simulation, your professors were practically tripping over themselves to congratulate you.”

Her eyes shine at me. “Markov. You’ve been paying attention.”

I shrug. “It’s what I do best.”

Not the only thing I do best, but it’s an important skill to cultivate.

“Anyway,” I tell her as I reach for a bag of chips and open them up before I hand them to her. “We don’t have to stay long. You have an early morning session with your personal trainer before another long day at your clinical.” I wink at her.

“And my father doesn’t have to know you’re my personal trainer?” she asks, taking the chips from me. “I’m glad they’re bringing in some American foods for us.”

“A lot is being asked of you,” I say as I reach for a sandwich for myself. “The last thing you need to do is try choking down foods that are foreign to your palette after a hard day’s work. How’s the American asshat today?”

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