Page 76 of Koroleva

"Perhaps play a game, maybe?"

"They didn’t hire you for your intuition, did they?" My dress was very short and I was wearing stiletto heels. She seemed nervous.

"Um… Sorry, it’s my first week and..."

"It shows," I cut her off. "Do you have a restaurant?" I glanced around.

A few steps away, an elegant man dressed as a golfer was waiting his turn at the counter. As expected, he couldn’t take his eyes off me.

"Yes, but it's only for members or guests of members."

"My father-in-law is a member."

"Wonderful, have you met with him?"

"No." She looked sorry.

"It’s just that if you don’t come with him, or another of our members, I can’t let you in. I’m sorry."

I looked at the forty-something man who continued to ogle me.

"I’m meeting with him." I pointed at him. The man looked surprised. The receptionist too.

"With Mr. Davencroft?" She seemed incredulous.

"Yes, we’ve arranged to have lunch," I confirmed, approaching him to offer a smile and wrapping myself around his arm.

"Well, I don’t know if my wife…" he excused himself gently.

"Your wife doesn’t need to find out," I winked at him. He cleared his throat nervously. "Come on, Daven, show me around."

I was about to drag him with me when the receptionist exclaimed in a muffled tone.

"I need your details to register you!"

"Nikita Koroleva," I declared, without turning towards her. My focus was fixed on the entrance door, my hand still inside the bag in case I needed to pull out the gun and start shooting. I turned my gaze back to my unexpected guide and urged him to take me to the restaurant, claiming I was famished. It wasn’t a lie.

"I need more details for you to enter! That’s not enough! Madam, please!" The receptionist’s shrill voice grated on my ears, I was about to snap at her when another much graver voice interrupted what I was about to say.

"She’s my daughter-in-law, Gabriela, you don’t need more information."

I spun around one hundred and eighty degrees, released myself from Davenport’s arm, and the figure of my father-in-law materialized in the entrance door."

31

On the playing field

Massimo Capuleto advanced toward me, took me by the shoulders, and pressed his lips, covered by that thin mustache, against my cheeks.

I clutched the purse against my side, not wanting him to see the weapon that had been in my hands seconds before.

Could they be the kisses of Judas? It seemed too much of a coincidence that he entered just a few minutes after me. What if my father-in-law was the person driving the black car and the same one who shot at me?

I felt a lash in my spine as soon as he stepped away. His gaze conveyed nothing to me, neither cold nor warmth, just mistrust.

I twisted my neck to see if someone was accompanying him. There was no one behind him. It struck me as odd. Massimo always had his men following him.

"Looking for someone, dear?" he asked, following the direction of my eyes.

---