Page 59 of Bound By Revenge

He exhales slowly, his expression unreadable. “Try not to freak out—if you can manage—but I need you to seduceMcGuire. Or better yet, let him think he’s seducing you. From what I’ve seen, that shouldn’t be much of a challenge for you.”

My eyebrows shoot up as I blink at him. “Excuse me?”

With a sigh, he says, “The thing about McGuire is that he’s painfully predictable. The man’s a womanizer, and he’s hated me for years. You’ll be more temptation than he can handle. He’ll trip over himself trying to steal you from me. That's why I need you to charm him into admitting he ordered the hit on Maxim. Maybe drop a few hints about secretly despising me and only being in this for my worldly possessions—which I’m sure won’t be a stretch for you.” He shrugs, the nonchalance in his tone almost convincing. “Your job is simple: get me undeniable proof he’s behind Maxim’s death. With that, I can take him out without sparking a war.”

I watch him, letting his plan sink in. Cozying up to another mobster wasn’t on my bingo card for the night, but at this point, am I even surprised?

“Will you have my back if things go sideways?” I ask, remembering his earlier promises.

“Without question,” he replies, his tone so steady it leaves no room for doubt.

I nod, taking a deep breath to steel myself. “If I’m getting up close and personal with McGuire, I need the full story—what’s his history with you and Maxim?”

He exhales, he slightest hesitation flickering in his eyes before he speaks. “It’s a long story. A few years ago, Maxim worked as a bodyguard for McGuire’s daughter, Erin. One thing led to another, and they got romantically involved. The problem? Erin was engaged. Her fiancé—and her father—weren’t exactly thrilled about abratvasoldier claiming the Irish princess's virginity.”

A thousand questions race through my mind, but before I can ask a single one, he cuts me off with a short exhale.

“We’re here.”

Chapter 25

Kat

The last lightof the sunset fades as Nik and I step out of the car onto the sweeping stone steps of an opulent mansion. My first thought: being an accountant for two mafia bosses clearly paysverywell.

As we step inside, a dark-haired man in his early thirties greets us with an easy grin. “Nikolai! You actually came.”

Nik shakes his hand with practiced ease, his other hand resting firmly at the small of my back. “John,” he says, his tone warm—for Nik, anyway. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

John laughs, throwing his head back. “Oh, come on. Yes, you would. Don’t even pretend. I know you better than that.”

Nik shrugs, the ghost of a real smile tugging at his lips. “John, this is Kat Devereaux. Kat, meet John Gates.”

John’s grin widens as he turns his attention to me, offering his hand. “Welcome, Kat. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” I say, shaking his hand. My gaze sweeps over the gorgeous foyer, every inch gleaming with understated elegance. “You have a beautiful home.”

John chuckles modestly. “All credit goes to my fiancée, Sheila. She’s got an eye for this kind of thing.” He winks. “Makeyourselves at home. I’ll bring her over to meet you once I track her down.”

I smile politely at John before Nik steers me away, his hand firm at my back. My heels click softly against the pale gray marble as we move toward the adjoining room, where John and Sheila’s guests have gathered.

The space is striking, with floor-to-ceiling glass walls that frame a beautifully manicured garden and a shimmering pool, both bathed in the soft glow of the full moon. We linger near the entrance, taking it all in. The low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses fills the air as Nik scans the room, his expression lined with impatience.

A server passes by, and Nik plucks two champagne flutes from the tray. He hands one to me, his expression unreadable. “Stay here. I’ll be back,” he says before walking away without another word.

I watch as he strides toward a stunning brunette standing alone by the bar. Her posture stiffens the moment she notices him approaching, her soft curls shifting slightly as she straightens her shoulders.

They exchange a few words I can’t make out. She fidgets with the sleeve of her wine-colored velvet dress, her fingers brushing the fabric n an obvious effort to steady herself. Nik leans in, speaking low, and her lips barely move in response. Then, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small box, placing it gently in her hands.

The woman stares at the box for a long moment before her gaze shifts to Nik, full of questions he doesn’t answer. Slowly, she opens the lid, her delicate fingers trembling as she pulls out a gold ring. Her mouth parts, and she blinks rapidly, her grip tightening around the ring like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

Nik gives her a short nod, then turns and walks back toward me, his long strides as composed as ever.

My eyes dart between him and the woman still standing at the bar, my concern spiking as I catch her brushing away tears. She clutches the ringmyRussian gave her tightly, staring at it with the kind of reverence usually reserved for something sacred.

Nik reaches me and slips his arm around my waist, his tone casual as if nothing happened. “Are you hungry? Because I’m starving. God, I hate these fucking parties. Endless champagne, tiny canapés, but not a single decent meal to be found.”

He nods politely to someone across the room, but I can’t even pretend to care. I’m too stunned to care about anything but the scene I just witnessed.

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