Page 8 of Blood Mosaic

She took another deep, bracing breath of sea air and said, “I have to go, Mama. Borrow the money from Karol and I’ll pay him back soon.”

“Okay but?—”

“Mama, I have to go.”

“Fine, fine.” Anna muttered something under her breath and hung up the phone.

“Good night to you too.” Tatyana put her phone in her pocket and walked into the building and through polished wooden doors that could pay her mother’s electric bill for a year.

Maybe a decade.

Tatyana was backin Elene Beridze’s conference room, her hand resting on the messenger bag in the seat next to her, when two people walked in.

One was Elene, and the other was a man.

No, more than a man. Apresence.

Tatyana wasn’t impressed by men. Growing up without a father made her keenly aware that men held too much power over most women’s lives. Her mother pined for a man who’d never loved her. Her grandfather had been the rare, stable exception in her life, but she’d never become attached to a boyfriend or a lover because, in her experience, men were not dependable.

But the man who took the seat next to Elene was magnetic.

He was dressed in a dark grey suit the color of charcoal and wore a wine-red shirt under his jacket that was open at thecollar. No tie. Dark, reddish-brown hair was swept back from his face, and a trim beard covered his jaw.

He sat across from her, staring at Tatyana with keen grey eyes the color of storm clouds. He was tall, even while sitting, and she knew he’d tower over her if he stood. He was also handsome, but it was the least impressive thing about him.

Whatever cologne he was wearing smelled like cedar and sweet smoke, and she was tempted to lean toward him. She resisted. Power radiated from him, and in her gut, Tatyana knew he was dangerous.

Her research had told her that SMO International was a legitimate multinational company not connected to organized crime, so why did this man have the bearing of a gangster?

Elene said, “Miss Vorona, this is my employer, Mr. Sokolov, the CEO of SMO International.”

His voice was low and curt. “She knows who I am.” He spoke in Russian, not English.

“I don’t know who you are,” Tatyana responded in Russian too, “but you look like the boss.”

The corner of his mouth curled up. “Then you know who I am.”

Sokolov. Helookedlike a bird of prey, ready to snatch up the pale little girl sitting in front of him. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties, but something about him told Tatyana he was older than he looked.

His gaze on her didn’t waver; Tatyana felt like she was under a microscope.

“Elene thinks you can find the money Zara stole. Is she right?”

Tatyana glanced at Elene. “I think Ms. Beridze is rarely wrong.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I think it is.”

He didn’t look away, and his constant attention felt like a burn on her skin. “I don’t like it when people lie to me.”

Tatyana narrowed her eyes. “You think I’m lying?”

“I think Zara is very smart and very conniving.”

“Agreed.” Tatyana leaned forward. “But I’m smarter than she is. And I found the connection between ZOL Enterprises and SMO International, so I’m smarter than whoever tried to hide her company, don’t you think?”

“I’m the one who tried to hide her company.” His mouth twitched again at the corner, almost as if he wanted to smile. “So you think you’re smarter than me?”

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