Page 11 of The Russian Retribution

And just like that, my window of opportunity to get close to Anastasia Remizova flies wide open.

4

ANASTASIA

Someone trying to kill me isn’t all that surprising.

I can’t count how many assassination attempts I witnessed against my father. There’s always someone smaller vying for more power and unwilling to work for it. Someone else always thinks they can do a better job or that they deserve to be in charge.

Not me.

When I was growing up, I never envisioned leading. My life was filled with solitude, so I passed the time by burrowing into every book I could find. When I got older, I tried to earn my father’s favor by learning what I could on the sidelines, but I quickly realized that he had no interest in showing me the ropes.

If only my lack of education in the family business were enough to keep the assassins off my back.

Outside, birds drift lazily through the air, turning the sky into a blue polka dot pattern that completely captures my attention. The painkillers the hospital gave me a week ago have softened the edges of my world, but I’m not complaining. They keep thepain at bay, which I am grateful for every morning when I wake up and become swallowed by the agony of my broken ribs.

The world doesn’t stop. Unlike the attempts on my father’s life, there were no flowers sent to my door, no words of sympathy or revenge from anyone near me.

Except Erik.

He stands by the window, staring at the passing patrol with a slight frown gracing his handsome features. I shouldn’t think that about someone who works for me, but it’s true.

He’s handsome.

Sweeping tufts of dark brown hair sit on top of his head, leading down to close-shaved sides that feed into an equally close-shaved beard that hugs his square jaw like the touch of a lover. With tawny beige skin, caramel brown eyes, and a fuller lower lip that makes each smile warm, it’s difficult for me not to look.

I shouldn’t.

But I do.

He saved my life.

Last week wasn’t the first time someone has tried to kill me, but it is the closest they’ve come. I barely remember my time in the car, although I do remember opening my eyes to find myself wrapped in Erik’s thick, muscular arms.

Safe.

If I close my eyes, I can still faintly feel his pounding heart against my cheek. Just thinking about it makes my stomach tighten, and my heart flutters slightly.

It’s pathetic.

He held me to protect me because he was doing his job, yet I’m so starved of any kind of affection that I can’t stop replaying that moment in my head. He was warm and for a few seconds, I truly felt safe.

What’s wrong with me?

This can’t be a normal reaction to something like this, surely?

“Anastasia?” The soft, sweet voice of my underboss, Faina, breaks through my thoughts as she places one hand on my bare knee and squeezes softly. “Are you alright?”

Faina is the only person I have in the world. We grew up together since she was the chef’s daughter in my youth, and then she remained with the family after her father’s death. Before the murder of my own father, Faina busied herself with running a few of the nightclubs, but it was our brief connection when we were younger that made me pluck her out of that life and bring her right to the top with me.

I needed someone unconnected to the dead generals, someone so far removed from my father’s dealings that they could give me impartial advice. She was the perfect choice, and she’s been running things while I lay in bed recovering.

Her question catches not just my attention but Erik’s, too. His eyes snap away from the window, and our gazes meet for a split second, long enough for my heart to flutter again. I glance away and flash a tight smile at Faina.

“Yes. I’m just tired.”

Faina smooths her hand over the files in her lap. “We can pick this up later if you want to rest?” Her brows knit together, andshe tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear. “We’ve covered the important stuff already.”

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