Page 116 of Cashmere Ruin

“Th-The others?”

But she’s already running off.

“Excited, isn’t she?” a new voice pipes up behind me.

I barely hold back a squeak.

“Lionel,” Matvey greets. “Glad you could come aboard.”

“After that check you offered me? I’d have jumped on the Titanic. This must be the mind behind the grind?”

Matvey nods towards me. “April, this is Dr. Reznikov. Lionel, meet…”

“The next big name in fashion,” he fills in with a warm handshake. “Charmed.”

I feel like I’m being spun around like a doll. “Um, pleasure’s all mine?”

Dr. Reznikov doesn’t seem to mind the question mark. “I’ve taken the liberty to run a few numbers. I hope you don’t mind.”

“N-Numbers?”

Out of the blue, he produces a tablet.What the hell…?“This is a list of materials split by cost, availability, and durability. I think the top five would integrate splendidly with Kevlar, but I didn’t want to narrow it down too much, so I kept an open mind for alternative bases. Tincture shouldn’t be a problem, but we might want to stick to black for the first few product runs.”

“Uh-huh,” I mumble as I nod along like a bobblehead.

“Then there’s the matter of sizing. Of course, tailor-made is better, but we need to think about mass production as well. I put together a proposal based on large-scale export…”

I keep humming along to Dr. Reznikov’s ideas, pretending I absolutely know what he’s talking about. “I see. That’s… interesting.”

“Right? I respect creativity, of course, but a practical enterprise needs a practical mind as well. Don’t you agree?”

“Right, we’re all here!” Professor Simmons reappears out of nowhere, her smile somehow even brighter than it was before. “Oh, Lionel, won’t you go get your team, too? So we can do a proper introduction?”

“Sure! Be right back.”

As soon as the opportunity presents itself, I pull discreetly on Matvey’s sleeve. “Uh, Matvey? A word?” Then I drag him to a secluded corner of the warehouse.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“What am I doing here?”

I catch the hint of a smirk on his lips. “Leading, of course.”

“Leading…?”

“Everything.”

I throw my hands up in defeat. “Okay, look, you got me. I’ll buy a consonant, I’ll buy a vowel, I’ll buy the whole damn alphabet. Now, can you pleasetell me what’s going on?”

He must be satisfied with my begging, because he finally stops teasing. “We’re here to make clothes.”

“Clothes?” I frown.

“Yourclothes. The bulletproof suits.”

For a second, everything sways. “What?”

“I want you to bulletproof my Bratva. If you’re interested, that is.”

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