Page 7 of Twisted Fate

My dress for the night is hanging on the back of the bathroom door—a teal silk gown that wraps around my breasts and my neck, showing off a diamond of skin at my cleavage, my stomach, and the curves of my waist. It’s open at the back, the silk falling in a long waterfall to the floor, with a slit up one side. I take it off the hanger and slip it on—it fits perfectly, showing off all my assets to perfection. The neckline makes my breasts look fuller, the cut of the bodice shows off the divots of muscle in my stomach, and my lean arms and legs are shown off to their best advantage. I do my makeup with a light hand, adding a thin cat-eye and nude lipstick, and take my hair down out of the rollers at the very end. It falls in heavy, thick, dark waves around my shoulders when I brush it out.

I grab my clutch purse off the bed, slip on the nude stilettos that I chose for the evening, and head downstairs. I find Kane in the living room—surprisingly, instead of his study, a glass of scotch at his elbow, and a book on early American history in his hand.

“The driver will be around in ten minutes,” he says without looking up. His gaze flicks across the page in front of him, and he doesn’t look up at me until he’s finished. When he does, his gaze sweeps over me appraisingly. I square my shoulders, ready to accept whatever criticism might come my way without flinching. This is no different than a review of my performance in the gym or at the range—I’m just wearing heels and sparkling with diamonds instead of wearing spandex and holding a gun.

“You look stunning,” he says simply, and I blink, startled at the unfiltered praise.

“Thank you,” I manage. “You think Konstantin will like—” I wave a hand in the general direction of myself, and Kane chuckles.

“He’d have to be a dead man not to.” He closes the book and sets it aside. “You read your dossier?”

I nod. “I familiarized myself with all of it.” I hesitate. “When I read his—you didn’t mention he’d been trained by special forces.”

Kane raises an eyebrow. “Would it have changed your answer?”

Of course not. Another year of missions for Kane, versus this one last one? It was never really a choice. “No,” I say simply.

“I didn’t think so.” His gaze sweeps over me once more. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Yes.” The confidence in my voice doesn’t betray the slight flutter of nerves in my stomach. I’ve done this before—seduced men on their turf, drawn them into my web and crushed them. But Konstantin is a uniquely difficult challenge—and what’s worse, he’s one that I’m attracted to. He’s one that I have tomarry. My reservations about the lies I’ll have to tell aside—if just his photo made my heart stutter in my chest and my blood warm with desire that I rarely feel, what will seeing him in person be like?

I can’t allow myself to be affected by that. Not at any point.

Kane nods, satisfied, and looks up in the direction of the front door. “The driver should be here.”

Just like that, I’ve been dismissed. Though he’s the closest thing I’ve had to a father since I lost mine, he’s never been one given to extensive conversation or emotional displays. If he has any feelings about sending me off like this—his pseudo-daughter—to seduce and marry the heir to the Abramov Bratva, or about the blood he’s painted on my hands over the years, or about the fact that this will be my last job for him, I know he’d never show it.

He molded me into a weapon. To show emotion would be to humanize me, and himself.

I turn on my heel to leave, but Kane’s voice comes from behind me once more, startling me. I’d assumed the conversation was finished.

“Don’t underestimate Abramov,” he says calmly. “He’s intelligent, observant, and deadly. And he’ll have the natural suspicion that all men of his station have. Be cautious.”

I turn back to face him. For the briefest of moments, I think I see a hint of worry on his face, though the flash of it is gone so quickly that it might have been my imagination. “Of course,” I agree. “I always am.”

A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “Yes, you are. That’s why you’ll finish this mission flawlessly.”

And because I expect it of you.He doesn’t need to say the last; I know it without hearing the words.

The car is waiting outside, a sleek black Mercedes town car with tinted windows. The driver opens the door for me, and I slide into the backseat, my dress settling around my legs as I do. I sit as poised and elegantly as Sophia Moretti would, slipping into my alias now, while I still have time to settle into it.

Once I arrive at the Abramovs, I have to be perfect.

The drive takes about twenty minutes. I watch the Miami sunset splash across the sky, turning it the kind of vibrant hues that I’m not sure exist anywhere else, highlighted by the endless blue of the water and the spun-sugar sand. I breathe in and out, slowly, centering myself, becoming Sophia Moretti.

The woman who is going to marry Konstantin Abramov.

And the woman who is going to kill him.

Sophia can’t have any doubts or fears about what she’s going to do. She can’t regret saying vows she doesn’t mean or wonder if she’s giving away some piece of herself that she’ll never give back. If I hesitate, if I don’t make Konstantin believe that I want him, that this marriage is my desire as much as his—if I can’t make him trust me, then I’ll have failed.

By the time we reach the gates of the Abramov estate, Valentina Kane is gone, locked away in a corner of my mind until I can become myself again.

The Abramov estate is impressive, a sprawling Mediterranean-style mansion set back from the road, surrounded by lush gardens and high walls. Security is visible but discreet after we pass the guard checkpoint at the gate—men in suits positioned strategically around the property, cameras mounted at key points. I note each one automatically, cataloging potential escape routes and blind spots in case this goes all wrong somehow. I’m not armed—there’s no possible way that I could get a weapon into this fortress, so if this is a trap of some kind—if the Abramovs have seen through what Kane gave them, I’ll have to escape with my wits and nothing else.

We drive into a circular courtyard, the green landscaping extending in every direction despite the blistering summer heat. A uniformed staff member walks up to my door, boots crunching on the gravel, and opens it for me.

I step out, offering a polite smile, and I’m escorted into the house.

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