Page 24 of Avidian
“Good. The killer may very well be in attendance. If anyone asks, you’re a friend of Orin’s. He has enough of them to make it believable. I’ll tell my nephew to say the same.”
The thought makes my skin crawl. A friend of Orin’s? Really? I want to argue but bite my tongue. Pushing back will get me nowhere, and I know Viktor well enough by now to recognize a command when I hear one.
“Understood,” I say again despite my frustration.
He leans back, satisfied, and waves dismissively. “That’s all. You may go.”
I turn toward the door, my mind already racing with what this party might entail and why Viktor seems so intent onkeeping me hidden in plain sight. At least I know Malachi was being honest about one thing, and now he won’t have to convince Marco to let me go, as I’m already invited—and by invited, I mean my attendance is mandatory.
As I reach for the handle, his voice stops me once more.
“Katja,” he says, “do not embarrass me.”
I nod without looking back, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from responding. Embarrass him? If anyone here is an embarrassment, it’s this entire godforsaken family. But I swallow the thought and step out into the hall, closing the door quietly behind me. How would I embarrass him?
Asshole.
“Tellme what’s on your mind,” Marco says as he glances at me from the driver’s seat.
He’d claimed he needed to run into town and wanted me to accompany him. It’s not exactly unusual for him to make such a request, but something about it feels different today. Normally, we’d have a driver and at least one security detail. Today, it’s the two of us. Marco rarely does anything without a reason, and I’d bet my life this is about the case. He wants to probe me without prying ears around.
I fiddle with my hands in my lap, glancing out the window at the forest lining the snow-covered road. The sun is beginning to set, casting soft pink hues through the trees.
“I’m admiring the snow,” I say absently.
Marco doesn’t give a shit what’s on my mind. Whatever this ride is about, it isn’t small talk.
He reaches over and tugs the beanie off my head, brushing my hair back from my face with practiced ease. “I can’t see your face with that thing on,” he says gently.
I glance at him, my expression blank. Marco is an attractive man for his age. He’s a young fifty, with only faint creases at the corners of his eyes betraying his years. But I know better than to let appearances cloud my judgment. Despite what anyone might think, Marco has never made a move to cross certain lines. This gesture, brushing my hair out of my face, might seem intimate, but it’s not. To Marco, I’m a prized possession, a pet he keeps on a short leash. Something to admire, something to use to further his goals, and nothing more.
He’s is a master manipulator, and while he can come close to fooling me sometimes, I know better. His charm is a mask, his kindness a means to an end. Greed drives him, not compassion.
“Tell me what you know so far about the case,” he says, focusing on me.
I swallow, feeling the weight of his gaze even as I keep mine trained on the road ahead. Normally, I’d share my thoughts with him, brainstorm out loud, give him enough to keep him satisfied. But with Malachi’s proposition hanging over me, I hesitate. If I’m going to play this game, I can’t afford to be the obedient little pet Marco has always expected me to be.
Maybe it’s time to start engaging my more cunning side.
“This case is proving more difficult than I anticipated,” I say evenly.
Marco hums, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “I gathered that much from Viktor. He’s not pleased with your progress, but I told him you’d deliver. You always do.”
“I hope I don’t disappoint,” I say apathetically.
He tilts his head slightly, studying me out of the corner of his eye. “You seem...distracted.”
I stiffen but recover quickly, shrugging. “The details are messy. Nothing about this case is straightforward.”
“Details always are,” he says, thoughtful. “Do you trust Viktor?”
The question catches me off guard, but I don’t let it show. “Does anyone?” I ask, deflecting.
Marco chuckles, “Fair point. But I’m not asking about everyone else. I’m asking about you.”
I keep my gaze forward, carefully considering my next words. “Trust isn’t something I afford easily.”
“Good,” he says. “That’s how you’ve survived this long. I’ve taught you well.”
