Page 56 of Wicked Embers

“Oh?”

“You may know her mother. She headlines at the Ember Club, and her older sister is fucking Gavriil.”

“I get it now.” He nods, turning back to me. “You’re trying to outsmart your mother.” Oleksi sighs and turns back to Sabrina. “You’re thinking because her mother and Dalton are lovers she’ll know what her mother knows?”

“I think she’ll know more,” I reply. “She’s also Leigh’s best friend since they were kids and lived next door to each other.”

Oleksi’s gaze lingers on the stage, watching Sabrina move before his phone buzzes. He answers it, his gaze shifting between me and the stage as he listens. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hangs up. He finishes his vodka, scrapes his chair back, and stands.

“You have tonight to chase whatever answers you think you’re going to find,” Oleksi says. “I’ll be in the penthouse. Don’t try to find a way to thwart your mother about the wedding tomorrow.” Glancing at the stage, he growls. “And for fuck sake, don’t screw the dancer. I don’t want to get in the middle of another catfight because of you.”

I snort. “I was fifteen, and I didn’t know they were twins.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Oleksi shakes his head and leaves, his steps as deliberate as his words.

Sabrina’s last dance for the evening ends. I take my time finishing my drink before wandering to her dressing room. I’ve already spoken to the manager, who’s given me backstage access. I knock on the door, and her soft voice calls.

“Hold on.” There’s rustling inside. “Be there in a minute.”

Sabrina has her phone in her hands and hasn’t changed out of her dance outfit yet as she swings the door open. She looks up sharply, her body tensing for a fraction of a second beforeher expression smooths into a practiced calm. She hides her fear well, but I catch the flicker in her eyes.

“Yes?” Her voice is calm, and her eyes are hooded as she guards her doorway.

“May I come in?”

“Why?”

“So we don’t have to have an awkward conversation with me standing in the hallway and all the other dancers staring on?” I glance left and right pointedly.

Sabrina steps back. When I enter her dressing room, the faint scent of perfume fills my nostrils. There are glittering costumes and makeup palettes scattered on the counter. “Do you know who I am?” I ask, glancing around. The room is as overly lavish as the rest of the hotel.

“Who doesn’t?” Her voice is steady, her gaze unwavering. “You’re the monster that locks people up in his dungeon to eat them. You know that story our parents tell us as kids to keep us in line.”

She has a sassy mouth. “Do you know why I’m here?”

Her lips curl into a bitter smile. The tension in the room thickens. “To strong-arm me into giving you information about my best friend? The one you kidnapped?”

Her disdain doesn’t surprise me, but the venom in her voice when she says ‘kidnapped’ grates on my nerves.

“Actually, I want to know about Leigh’s mother,” I say, my tone deliberately neutral, watching for the slightest crack in her armor.

Sabrina blinks, caught off guard. “Why?”

“Curiosity,” I reply, though the lie is as thin as the tension stretching between us.

Her eyes narrow as she realizes my intent. “Again, why?”

She watches me as I move about the room looking at things. “I believe she was a song writer and has some songbooks filled with what could potentially be big hits.” My gaze meets hers and I see surprise in her eyes. I stop in front of her and lean in slightly. “Ah, so I see you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Her expression becomes neutral. “I didn’t know your organization was in the music business. I thought it was more into loading the house in your casinos, money laundering, drugs, guns, hits…” Sarcasm mingle with disdain in her tone. “You know, all mob related stuff.”

“I’m thinking about branching into it, especially now that I have such a talented songwriter under my roof.” I tilt my head. “A source told me you’d know where I could find Leigh’s mothers songbooks.”

“Who would that be?” She folds her arms, standing her ground. She’s ballsy for someone so petite.

“You know I can’t reveal my sources!” We stand eyeing each other out.

She nods and purses her lips. “You mean my mother and Mark.” She snorts. “You need better sources.”

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