Page 50 of Under Control

Then he’s gone, leaving me alone in my room.

Dreading what’s going to happen.

Chapter 17

Karine

Iwear the navy dress, just like he asked.

We barely speak on the long car ride down to the country club. It’s an exclusive members-only kind of place in a small town in the Maryland countryside, and it takes a couple of hours to reach it. I try to get Valentin talking more than once on the trip, but it’s like trying to make a rug laugh. He gives me moody, brooding stares, right up until Anton pulls down the long private driveway toward the clubhouse.

“We’re early,” I comment, glancing at the clock.

For whatever reason, that’s what finally gets him to speak.

“I’ve had men here for two days already,” he says and when I look surprised, he only tilts his head. “You think I would take any chances with this meeting?”

“Two days seems like a lot, that’s all.”

“I can’t risk the Brotherhood setting up an ambush.”

My stomach twists as I watch the manicured bushes and trees flit past. We pull into a parking lot and roll toward the two-storywhite building with pristine columns in the front and a gorgeous golf course spreading out behind it.

“You think they would?” I ask, not sure what to believe.

“Aram and I do not have a good history.” He’s glaring out the window like he means to shatter it. There are fancy cars parked in the lot already: BMW, Mercedes, Bentley. An Aston Martin’s left in the handicap space.

“What is with you and the Brotherhood? Why are we even doing this?”

“I told you. This is a part of my plan.” He turns to me as Anton parks the car in an empty space. More SUVs pull up, and Valentin’s men climb out. None of them are obviously armed, but I know they’re wearing body armor under their white shirts and have pistols hidden in their waistbands.

“What’s your plan, exactly?”

He turns to me, expression dark and angry. “You are going to get me close to your uncle.”

“And then? What are you going to do?”

“Make an alliance.” He touches my face gently. I pull back, afraid of the malicious look he’s giving me. “Then I’ll get my revenge.”

I open my mouth to press him for more, but he’s already getting out of the car. I have to hurry to keep up. He offers his arm and I take it, and he slows as we approach the entrance.

“Stay silent,” he instructs, hand squeezing my wrist. “You’re here to observe and nothing more. Understand?”

“Speak when spoken to, got it,” I mutter, wishing I could be angrier.

But a trio of men steps out of the country club and I can’t remember what I was about to say.

All three of them are tall and broad. They have the dark hair and dark eyes of my father, the cheekbones of my mother. The man in the center is around Mama’s age and grizzled with a salt-and-pepper beard and a hooked nose.

Behind them, more soldiers in dark clothes, and several women looking bored and put out, all in extremely fine dresses.

Valentin stops a few feet away from the welcome party.

“Aram,” he says nodding at the man in the middle.

My uncle stares back at him, showing nothing on his face. “Valentin Zaitsev. It has been a long time.”

“A very long time,” Valentin agrees. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

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