Page 45 of Wicked Embers

I’m here alone for the night. Radomir’s not back until sometime tomorrow. If you’re around, call me. I can talk freely.

I stare at the message hoping Sabrina reads it soon. I’m about to put the phone away when I see that my message has been read, and within a minute, she replies:

We need to talk. Call me!

I swallow hard, my thumb hovering over the call button. I hesitate for only a moment before hitting dial. Three rings, and Sabrina answers.

Her voice is filled with excitement. “Leigh! I have news.” She doesn’t even give me a chance to say hello. “A woman cameto my show tonight. She was looking for you. You’ll never guess who she is!”

“Hello to you too, Rina.” I laugh before my brow furrows worriedly, and my spine stiffens at her words. I don’t like people looking for me. They’re usually after my father for something he did or, more likely, stole. “Who is she?”

She’s a top exec at Matriarch Records,“ Sabrina says breathlessly. “The label has seen your songs, and they love them.

My heart skips a beat, my pulse quickening as the enormity of her words sinks in. This can’t be real. Shit like this doesn’t happen to me! The shock reverberates through me until my eyes catch my reflection in the mirror. The elation fizzles out as reality slams back into place. Of course, this would happen now when I’m nothing more than a rabbit trapped in a den of foxes.

Then another realization strikes, sharp and bitter.Radomir knew a record exec was looking for me. He must have known. That’s why he interrogated me by the pool.

Chapter 17

LEIGH

“Leigh?” Sabrina’s voice snaps me back to the conversation. “You haven’t passed out, have you?”

“I’m just startled!” That’s not a lie. “Matriarch Records? Are you serious?”

“Yes! The woman is so excited to see more of your work. This could be everything, Leigh! This is your chance!” Sabrina’s voice trembles with excitement, a perfect mirror of the spark igniting inside me.

But reality crashes down, swift and heavy. “Rina, how would that even be possible? I’m still stuck here in Fort fucking Molchanov!” The words taste bitter on my tongue. Just my luck—a dream comes true, only for a nightmare to trap me in hell and lock the door.

Sabrina pauses for a moment before responding, her tone full of promise. “We’ll figure something out. Just leave it to me.”

Her confidence sends a pang of gratitude through me. But deep down, doubt nags at the edges of my mind. How am I going to break free? Even if I am able to come up with a plan, I have no idea how long it’s going to take. Record labels like Matriarch don’t wait forever.

“What did you tell the woman?”

“That you were away at the moment, and I’d pass the message on to you,” Sabrina says. “I’ve got her card.”

“You’re the best, Rina.”

“Speak again soon.”

The call ends, and for a moment, I just stare at the phone. Did Sabrina really just say someone from Matriarch Records wants to see more of my work? My thumb hovers over the call log, and when I confirm the conversation happened, a small smile tugs at my lips.Holy shit—Matriarch Records.

Back in the bedroom, I crawl under the covers, replaying the conversation on a loop. I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve, buzzing with anticipation.

“Fuck, I did it,“ I squeal into a pillow kicking my legs about in glee. My work has been recognized by one of the giants of the music industry. This is my future—everything I’ve dreamed of for as long as I can remember.

But then, like the Grinch stealing my dreams and future and dampening my excitement, the memory of Radomir’s cold voice detonates in my chest like a grenade:You’ll have a music career if I allow it. White-hot anger flares at his audacity.

Who the fuck does he think he is—God? Newsflash: I’m not religious. I don’t worship anyone, let alone live by some man’smisogynistic rules. Screw that. This isn’t the Dark Ages, and I’m not some shiny ornament for a man’s arm, warming his bed and popping out babies.

My whole life, I’ve been a pawn in someone else’s game. My resolve hardens, solid as steel. I’ll be damned if Radomir—or anyone else—gets in the way of my dreams again. I’m intelligent, resourceful, and grew up with the greatest con man of all—my father.

Those years of watching and learning from him are about to pay off. If there’s a way out of this trap, I’ll find it. All I have to do is pull off the con of a lifetime.

I chew the side of my mouth, rifling through my mental file of my father’s strategies. My brow rises, a slow smile curving my lips as a memory surfaces:The Gambler’s Cross—one of my father’s most brilliant cons, a high-stakes maneuver meant to outwit even the most cunning rivals. The brilliance of the strategy is in its simplicity. Set up two or more unwitting parties, each convinced they’re the sole player in a beneficial scheme.

Neither knows about the other until it’s too late—when chaos erupts, and they’re at each other’s throats, he slips away with the prize. It’s bold, brilliant, and has never failed.

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