Page 26 of Twisted Fate

“I’m more interested in the fact that Nikolai believes we are responsible for Vlasta’s death,” Leo says. “Which would give the Ivanovs a motive for the hit on Papa.” He looks at me. “We need to find Bianchi.” He drums his fingers on the tabletop. “We also need to figure out which agreement Mikhail believes we breached and resolve the issue before it triggers repercussions. Find out, Damian. And deal with it.”

10

Alina

I don’t like feeling trapped, being trapped. But here I am, trapped in a luxurious prison. I’m trapped because the elevator won’t move without an access card and because there are two muscle-bound thugs sitting in the foyer, drinking coffee and guarding me. And I’m trapped by my own thoughts and worries.

I keep thinking about Markus, desperate to check on him. But I have no way to reach him because Damian took my phone. I asked the thugs if I could use one of their phones to call my brother. Vito just stared at me. Joe laughed, turning it into a cough when I glared at him. Neither gave me their phone.

I keep thinking about Damian, about the crazy chemistry between us. Stockholm syndrome, much?

With nothing to occupy my thoughts or my hands, I feel like I’m going crazy. I can only watch so many episodes of Friends before I start to feel like my brain is starting to decay.

In an effort to release my anxiety, I’m doing jumping jacks in front of the massive white sectional in the living room when the front door opens and Damian enters the condo. He told me he would be back to continue our conversation, and here he is ten hours later. I hate that a part of me is glad to see him.

I’m not claiming to know him very well, or that I’m a mind-reader, but one look from him makes me come to a sudden halt, frozen in place.

He doesn’t look friendly. Not that he has in the past, but this is different.

He’s wearing dark aviator sunglasses that completely shield his eyes. But there’s something in the tightness of his jaw beneath his carefully cultivated three-day stubble that makes my heart double its pace.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Is it Markus?”

His lips thin. “You’re far too concerned about that brother of yours.”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“No, you definitely should be. But I’m already sick of hearing about it.”

I send him a glare of my own. He takes off his jacket and slings it over a nearby chair. Then he peels off the sunglasses. No man has a right to be this beautiful, especially one who’s a monster. Shouldn’t monsters look like monsters?

He moves past me and takes a seat on the sofa, as comfortable and relaxed as if he owns the place. Which, I assume he does. He pats the seat next to him. With a glare, I settle as far from him as I can.

“Where’s Enzo?” he asks.

“Where’s my brother?” I ask.

He offers a dark smile, those perfect lips curving to reveal straight, white teeth. “Markus is fine, last time I checked. He’s busily working on making good on his debt.” Damian cocks his head. “You probably think I should forgive him for what he owes me, let him walk away, easy as pie, right?”

“No,” I reply honestly, tucking my legs underneath me. “He got himself into this situation because he has a gambling addiction. He should pay what he owes and learn his lesson…”

“And yet...?” he prompts when I don’t continue.

“And yet,” I begin. “A million dollars is a ludicrous amount for a few hands of poker.”

“This is Las Vegas. There is plenty of high stakes gambling going on at all hours of the day or night. A million is a drop in the bucket.”

“Sharks,” I say. “Those are sharks. You’re a shark...with sharp teeth and deep pockets. My brother? He’s just a little guppy.”

He offers a dry laugh. “You think so, do you?”

“I know so.” I pause. “Which makes me wonder how he even got a seat at your poker table…”

“I invited him.”

“Why?”

He ignores my question, instead asking one of his own. “How long have you been in Vegas, Alina?”

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