Page 8 of Wicked Proposal
White tablecloths stained red, red, red?—
“Maksim,” I bark, “kill him.”
“No! Please, have mercy! I swear I don’t know anything! I?—”
BANG.
Boyan’s body thumps to the ground.
Thank God. Motherfucker was starting to give me a headache.
Moments later, I hear Maksim’s voice again. “So? We believe him?”
“I don’t know. He pissed me off.”
My second barks a laugh. “God, I fucking love working for you. Never a dull moment.”
“Good to know employee satisfaction is high.”
“I mean, the dental benefits suck, but I digress. Anyway—what about tonight?” Maksim asks, a swift change of subject. “You still going to the event?”
“StarTech’s future depends on this deal,” I say. “And I don’t need to remind you what else is on the line.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I grit my teeth. Maksim’s cheer clashes with my mood on the best of days, and today’s not a good day to begin with.
Not by a long shot.
“Without Nikita, I’m fucked. Find me a replacement date.”
“That’s gonna be hard on short notice.”
“I don’t give a shit.” My phone cover cracks in my hand as I clench it tight. “And keep looking for Nikita. I want her found.”
Before Maks can answer, I hang up.
Fucking hell.
This had to happentonight, of all nights?
Plus-ones are a status symbol, as much as a good suit and an expensive watch. And the man I’m meeting tonight, Baldwin, is exactly the kind of shallow bastard to care mostly about the arm candy I bring for him to gawk at.
If I show up alone, this deal’s as good as dead.
Meet me there with my date,I type quickly to Maksim.
But as I walk to my car, I realize the problem with that plan.
My car isn’t there anymore.
“What the—” My eyes fix on the bright orange sticker on the ground. A towing company’s details. “Blyat’.”
Furious, I type in the towing company’s number and call.
“You have my car,” I spit the second someone picks up.
An automated voice answers me. “You’ve reached Brownsville Towing Trucks. If you want to report a car, press?—”
