Page 41 of Wicked Arrangement

“No, no,” he rushes to explain, “But someone is, and we’re more likely to catch them if they don’t know we’re onto them. I wasn’t sure how secure his line was, or how you’d want to handle it.”

“Thank you, Artem. You’re right, we need to handle this quickly and discreetly. I trust you can find out the persons responsible and take care of them?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, let me know once you’ve got a shortlist and we can interrogate them later today,” I respond, dismissing him with a wave of my hand.

Although I may seem calm about the situation, internally, the news has worried me. Traitors are like weeds, once you have one more seem to spring up. We need to root them out quickly. Artem was right not to let anyone else know. If people think one person can get away with stealing from me, what’s to stop them from trying? Any weak link is like a cancer that will rot the organization from the inside.

Chapter 21

Kimberly

When I get back from visiting Gran, I’m unexpectedly greeted as I enter the house by Artem. “Hello, Kimberly. I trust your grandmother is doing well?” he asks politely.

“Very well thank you. Where’s Yaroslav?” I ask, wondering why it’s not him greeting me, or at the very least why I’m being sent an escort instead of just heading straight back to my room if he’s busy.

“Mr. Volkov is tied up with work right now and will be for some time. He asked me to show you something if you’d be so kind as to accompany me?” he says, gesturing to the left.

“Sure,” I reply, allowing him to lead the way.

He takes me through parts of the house I’ve never ventured to since I was first shown around. Eventually, we wind up outside of a door close to where I know the entertainment rooms are located. If memory serves this was a ridiculously large supply closet. I look at Artem, confused as to why he’s brought me here.

“Yaroslav thought you may be a little bored while he is working, and he mentioned you have hobbies that the house doesn’t currently cater to. So, he took the liberty of making this for you,” he says as he opens the door.

I gasp with surprise. Inside, he’s turned it into a pottery room, complete with a brand-new top-of-the-line pottery wheeland kiln. It puts my makeshift workstation to shame. He’s even gone above and beyond, making the room feel light and open by knocking out the small window that was in there and making the external wall into one big glass pane window that looks out onto the trees outside. On one wall, there are shelves to store my completed works. There’s also a desk area with an array of sketchbooks, pens, watercolors, and pencils.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, looking around in disbelief.

“I shall tell him you’re happy with it. He will be pleased to know. Everything you need should be here but don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything else. You can use it any time you wish. Would you like me to escort you back to your room?” Artem asks politely.

I shake my head, still gawping at the room. “No thank you, I think I’ll stay here a while.”

“Very well,” he says with a nod before leaving.

I’m shocked that he’s gone to this much trouble since I’m only staying another week. But I guess when you’re that rich, you can afford to just decide to turn your freaking supply closet into an art studio on a whim. The surprise and disbelief wears off once I take a closer look at the range of glazes available and I immediately get stuck into making a new pot, losing myself in the familiar rhythm of creating something. Hours later, I hear a knock at the door. I know it must have been a while since the sun is already setting and the room is cast in a dull dusk light. I’ve managed to while away an entire afternoon in the blink of an eye.

“Come in,” I call, flicking on the lamp next to me and casting the room in its warm glow.

I’m right at a crucial moment of work, where if I take my focus off it for too long it will be ruined. So I don’t bother to look up as I hear the door open and shut. I assume it will be Yaroslav, wondering where I am, so I’m surprised when David ambles into the room.

“Hey, whatcha doing?” he asks curiously.

“Oh, hi David, I’m making a pot,” I reply, not looking up.

“Can I help?” he asks, sounding like a hopeful small child wanting to play.

I really don’t want him to. I’ve worked so hard on this and it’s finally starting to take shape. A novice getting involved now would surely ruin it.

“Umm… give me a second and we can start on a new one instead maybe? This one’s kinda tricky for a first-timer,” I glance up quickly and meet his eyes, before turning my focus back to the pot.

“Oh, okay,” he says, continuing to pace around the room. I can tell he’s agitated, his movements too quick and erratic.

“Why don’t you sit at the desk and sketch a design, something you’d like to make with clay? It doesn’t have to be a pot, it can be a mug, a plate, or even a figurine,” I tell him, hoping to calm him down and distract him with a task.

“Can I make a wolf?” he asks excitedly, racing to sit at the desk and scattering pens all over it in his haste to find the right ones.

I bite down the frustration at him interrupting my peace and making a mess. “It sure can,” I say, keeping my voice light.

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