Page 21 of Trapping His Darling

“The Bratva are as thorough as they are cruel,” she countered. “Expect a visit. And when they come, be extra polite, answer honestly, and if you can, cry for the dead man. Tell them that he was alive and very satisfied when you left his house. If they ask why you didn’t stay the night, say you had to work in the morning.”

“Sure,” I replied, my brows drawing together in a frown. My new favorite penis was on the floor, the glass jar shattered.

Odd.

“How can you be so calm about this!? The guy who took you home last night was found dead this morning!”

I took the poor organ to the kitchen to quickly rebottle it. “People die all the time,” I said. “My parents died recently. I’m kind of numb to it.”

“I’m sorry to hear this,” Lavania offered. “I guess Americans grieve differently.”

I returned it to the wardrobe and threw a towel over the mess on the floor. “Are you sure you don’t want to work tonight?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Yes!” She released a long exhale. “I know the money is good, but that’s not my scene. Plus, you had to be vetted. You be careful,” she cautioned. “Don’t trust these rich fucks. Probably vetting to look for people to abduct. Also, be careful who you interact with, as where there is wealth, there is Bratva, and we are already on their radar.”

“Okay, I’ll call you when I get home,” I promised, rolling my eyes and repeatingBratva-Bratva-Bratvain my head, like I was Jan fromThe Brady Bunchcomplaining about Marcia. “I’m gonna get dressed. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Khorosho. Poka.”

When she hung up, I looked over at Hero on my bed. “I’ll have to clean this up later,” I warned my taxidermized furbaby. “Make sure you don’t step on it.”

I liked to imagine he was still alive.

“Was someone in here while I was at work?” I asked, turning back to pull out some clothing. “You would have scared them off, surely.”

As I dressed, the sense of foreboding intensified, gnawing at my gut. Something ominous loomed on the horizon. Shaking my head, I made a mental note to add an additional lock.

After returning my jar to the wardrobe, I locked up and made my way to the Moscow Railway Station, and boarded the trainwithout stopping for coffee. Though I had extra money now, I had to be mindful. Plus, I was running a little late, having lingered on the phone.

Stepping off the train at my destination, I hailed a cab for the rest of the journey. The train station was at the base of a substantial hill, and the directions to the event said it was located behind it, nestled by the lake and shrouded in a dense forest. Hopefully, a fellow staff member would provide a ride back home. I had no intention of attempting the train journey in the late hours.

As the cab climbed the hill, I kept my amazement in check, trying not to gawk at the grandeur before me. It made every mansion back in the US look cheap and gaudy. Apparently, this was old-world money. This place felt like a castle.

When the cab dropped me out front, I quickly paid the man, then reread the directions again. The map showed a back door of sorts.

I finally located a side entrance, after what felt like an eternity of circling the sprawling architecture. Sweat trickled down my neck and I cast a wistful glance at the tranquil lake. No one in their right mind would swim in it this time of year, yet there was movement marring the surface.

Curiosity piqued, I approached swiftly but with caution, mindful of the shoreline. I did not want to slip in. I would offer assistance if I could, but it would be a fool’s errand to jump in for a rescue.

I was shocked that a man swam toward me. This guy should be drowning in these frigid waters, his muscles seized up, making it painful if not impossible to move. Yet I watched, transfixed, as the swimmer’s arms sliced gracefully through the water.

With each stroke, more details emerged; the glimpse of a handsome face, the sun catching in their light hair. The bustlingpreparations for the party behind me faded into obscurity the moment our gazes locked, and my breath hitched in my throat.

Though it lasted only a heartbeat, it felt as though time itself had frozen. A distant voice shattered the spell. I didn’t understand it, but the sentiment was clear. I needed to be where I was supposed to be.

Shaking off the enchantment that had held me captive, I headed back toward the mansion. I had a job to do, and whoever that mysterious swimmer was, they were not part of my immediate concerns. I was here for the promised paycheck, not to meet new friends.

A woman with a clipboard awaited my arrival, her voice tinged with boredom. She asked me my name in Russian.

“Tiffany Garcia,” I replied, my voice slightly croaky.

“Oh good. The American,” she replied in English. “We’ve been wondering when you were going to show up. My name is Emily. I will assign you your section. All you have to do is walk around it with trays, and make sure that the guests are eating or drinking whatever you offer.”

I nodded in agreement. “That sounds easy enough.”

Emily sighed. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?”

I giggled. “Are the guests already causing trouble?”

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