Page 19 of Emerald Malice

I tilt my head to the side as I look at her. “If my brother really is the worthless sack of shit you clearly think he is, why turn up at this wedding at all?”

“That was all Katya!” she explodes. “I thought we were having a girls’ night out. I had no idea she was planning on roping me into her insane little revenge plot.” She jumps to her feet. “And before you insult me by asking—no, I am most definitely not your brother’s mistress and I am definitely not carrying his baby!”

It takes all my effort to suppress a laugh. Who knew interrogations could be so amusing?

“So, you’re not one of my brother’s many conquests. Congratulations. But your friend…”

She freezes. “My friend has bad taste in men. That’s not a crime.” She looks around the hotel room. “Where is she?”

“I’d worry about yourself right now.”

She sighs. “Listen, I get it: Viktor is a dangerous man. You’re a dangerous man. I’ve got the message, loud and clear. I’m not about to go tell anyone.”

I get to my feet, towering over her. “Who would you tell?”

“No one. That’s my point.”

I stalk around the coffee table. She shrinks more and more with every step. “Ever heard of Nikolai Rostov?”

“Who?”

“You’ve spent time at the Neon Moon. Surely his name came up.”

“I’ve been at that club exactly once and I did not enjoy any part of it.” She wrinkles her nose. “The men looked at me like I was meat and the waitresses had dead eyes and…” She shakes off the memory she’s obviously reliving. “I don’t know who this Nicholas guy is, okay?”

“Nikolai.”

“See? I don’t even know his name.”

“Or you’re just a very good actress.”

“Look at me. How likely do you think that is?”

The chuckle nearly escapes before I manage to stuff it back down. “I’ll admit: not very.”

“Exactly.” She sounds relieved. “Now, can I please go home?”

“Yes.”

Her jaw drops. “Yes?”

I nod. “I’ll drive you myself.”

The relief in her eyes disappears at once. “That’s really, really not necessary.” She picks up her purse and her phone. “I can get myself home now that I have my stuff.”

“I may not be a nice man, lastochka—but your initial assessment of me wasn’t completely wrong, either. I am the type of man who feels the need to get a woman back home safely in the middle of the night.”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s an ulterior motive attached to this act of chivalry?”

I don’t bother answering her question, though the obvious answer is that there’s always an ulterior motive. I just smile and gesture towards the door. “After you, Ms. Boone.”

She scowls, unwilling to turn her back on me completely. “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” I say, finally letting loose the laugh I’ve been holding back. “None at all.”

7

ANDREY

---