Page 72 of Diamond Don

The door is closed, so I knock on it, thinking it would probably be a bad idea to barge in unannounced if he’s in there working.

Nik’s voice reaches me after a moment. “Come in.”

Hesitantly, I do. I push the door open and walk into the room. Nik sits behind his desk, bent over a stack of papers with a pen in his left hand. He’s wearing a royal blue sweater, and his sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms. With his other hand, the Russian props up his head. He doesn’t look up when I enter.

“You’re left-handed,” I remark dumbly.

Finally looking up from his work, Nik shoots me a look that tells me I’m a very unwelcome interruption. “What are you doing here?” he asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

“I bring a peace offering.” Even though I feel less confident than usual, I smile at him.

“Muffins. From my own kitchen. Be still, my heart,” he says, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. I mean, I do believe that food is often the way to a man’s heart, but I brought the muffins because I haven’t eaten yet, and I figured maybe you haven’t, either. But my peace offering is something else.” I pull my phone from my pocket and wave it in front of his face.

Nik raises his eyebrows and puts down his pen. “I’m listening.”

So I explain to him that last night I asked A.J. to look at the museum’s internal security feeds, hoping she could recover some of the footage damaged by the device I used during the Flame of Mir’s heist.

“She got back to me this morning,” I say. “She hasn’t been able to save all of it. Well, not yet, anyway. But she sent me what she’s been able to salvage so far. Would you like to see it? I can probably aircast it on your TV.”

Nik gets up from his chair to sit on the couch facing the TV, motioning for me to sit beside him. I put A.J.’s video on the screen before sitting down.

“Are those the metal detectors by the front entrance?” Nik asks, growing a little interested. I nod in response.

We watch countless people come and go, walking through the large metal detectors and making small talk with the security guards stationed there. Men empty their pockets into plastic trays that get scanned, and the same happens with women’s purses and clutches.

Eventually, I spot myself on the screen, watching as I walk up to the security guard—a young man in his early twenties—and smile at him. I chat him up, playfully slapping his arm, and he turns red like the Flame of Mir. His unconcealed pleasure is clear in his coy smile, and my past self walks past the metal detectors without getting scanned or having her evening bag’s contents checked.

Nik scoffs. “I should’ve known,” he says.

I shrug in response. “A.J.’s device would’ve set off the alarm. We didn’t have time to figure out a way to conceal it so I could walk through the metal detectors. I had to make use of the resources available to me.”

“Oh, and you did. If I recall correctly,” he retorts. I consider challenging his hypocritical words and attitude, but after what happened between us last night, I let it go instead.

Soon, we spot Nik on the screen. He walks through the metal detector. The young guard approaches him, asking him to empty his pockets. Nik merely glances at the man before an older guard comes along. Familiar with Nik, this man waives him on before turning to the younger man and chastising him.

I snort. “Oh, you’re one to talk.”

“It’s different,” he says.

“Oh, really? And why’s that?”

“For starters, I wasn’t there to commit grand larceny,” he points out.

“Well, he didn’t know that.”

“He did, though. The guard knew who I was.”

“All the more reason to frisk you thoroughly, then. It’s what I would’ve done if I had known who you were.”

“If memory serves me, you did. Very thoroughly,” he adds smoothly.

I shoot him a look, surprised. Nik’s eyes are still guarded, but they have a definite mischievous glint. They’re at least twenty degrees warmer than the arctic ice I saw in them in the limousine.

“You and I have a different recollection of that night, then. I remember your very fine attire being almost completely undisturbed throughout our rendezvous. The same couldn’t be said about myself, of course,” I tease, wondering how he’ll react to my attempt at levity.

To my surprise, he chuckles. “And yet,” he says, eyes glued to the screen, “you managed to keep my diamond hidden the entire time. Was it in your purse?”

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