Page 79 of Bound By Revenge

McGuire moves ahead, but Nik lingers, leaning down close enough that his breath brushes my ear. “I’ll be right back. Vladmir’s inside. If anything happens, call me.”

I glance up at him, raising a brow. “I don’t have your number.”

He presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. “Yes, you do. Check your phone. I saved it before I gave it back to you.”

I wasn’t lying about not wanting to risk breaking my neck on a boat in these heels. But the real reason I stayed behind has nothing to do with my shoes. If I’m going to have the misfortune of running into thatstronzo, I’d rather face him alone—away from Nik’s watchful eyes.

As I make my way through the lavishly decorated house, I keep scanning for him or any of his men. But there’s no sign of the Italian or his entourage. So I head toward the bar, weaving through clusters of people until I spot the polished counter.

“A martini, please,” I tell the bartender, sliding onto a stool. “Extra dirty.”

He nods and gets to work. While waiting, I discreetly scan the room again, my eyes flicking over the guests and shadows for any familiar faces. I’m mid-scan when Vladmir settles onto the stool beside me.

“There you are,” he grunts, with the same gruffness that seems to be his trademark.

“Here I am,” I reply lightly. “Didn’t know you were looking for me.”

“Nikolai told me to keep an eye on you until he’s back,” he says, his tone as curt as ever.

“Oh. I see. Sorry about that.” I keep my tone casual.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks, frowning slightly, his confusion obvious.

I shrug. “I’m just sorry you got stuck with babysitting duty because of me. Nik can be… a little over-the-top sometimes.”

He glares at me, his frown deepening. “He’s the boss. It’s not up to me—or you—to question him. Orders are orders.”

I blink at him. It’s probably the longest sentence I’ve ever heard him say. It’s obvious he doesn’t like me, and honestly? The feeling’s mutual.

“Right,” I say, finally breaking the silence. “Sorry about that, I guess.” I flash a smile at the bartender as he sets my drink in front of me. Beside me, Vladmir nurses a glass of clear liquor—vodka, no doubt.

I wait, expecting him to say something else, but he doesn’t. It’s clear small talk isn’t on his agenda.

“So,” I say, breaking the awkward silence as I take a sip of my martini, “I assume you’ve worked for Nik a long time.”

“Yes.”

That’s it. Nothing more. I wait a beat for him to elaborate, but of course, he doesn’t. Classic Vladmir.

“That’s nice. You must know him pretty well.”

He doesn’t bother responding, just arches a single brow before staring blankly ahead, as if I’m not worth the effort.

I sigh. “I’ll take that as a yes. Did you know Maxim well, too?”

That question gets a reaction. His eyes narrow, and his tone turns razor-sharp. “I’m not here to make small talk with you.”

“Aw, come on, Vlad. It’s just an innocent question. I’m trying to kill time while we wait for Nik. No need to get all worked up about it.”

“Nikolai ordered me to keep you safe, not indulge your pointless gossip,” he snaps.

“Who said anything about gossip? I’m just curious about Maxim. He is the reason I’m here, after all.”

“No,” he says bluntly, taking a swig of his drink. “You’re here because you’re a shameless thief.”

“Wow,” I say, giving him a slow blink. “You really don’t like me, do you?”

“My opinion of you doesn’t matter,” he says coldly. “I’m here to keep you out of trouble—not to like you or talk to you.”

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