Page 18 of The Devil's Thorn
“And you hired her?”
“I said I’ll find a good fit,” Nikolai said. “She’s already in the building.”
“What’s her name?”
“Natasha Orlova.”
The name didn’t ring any bells. But something about the way Nikolai said it—low, sharp, cautious—pricked a nerve just beneath the surface.
I sat forward slightly, resting my elbows on the desk.
“You think she’s a threat?”
“No,” he said. “I think she’s something worse.”
I raised a brow. “Which is?”
“Unpredictable.”
“Pull the feed,” I said, voice quiet.
Nikolai didn’t ask which one. He just turned toward the console mounted against the far wall. Within seconds, the screen flickered to life—grainy black and white at first, then sharp focus. Office 15B. The interview room.
I leaned back in my chair, ring tapping once against the glass desk as the feed began to play.
She entered silently.
A black coat, simple heels, hair pulled back—not polished, but not careless either. Intentional. Every detail of her appearance saiddisappear,but she carried herself like a weapon dressed in silk.
She didn’t fidget. Didn’t stumble.
Sheglided.
I watched her sit. Calm. Composed. Spine straight, chin neutral. But it was her eyes that locked me in place.
She wasn’t curious. She wasn’t nervous.
She wasmeasuring.
Her gaze flicked to every corner of the room in the span of a breath. She looked at Nikolai the way men like me look at threats—not with fear. With calculation.
“Watch her hands,” I murmured.
Nikolai glanced at the screen. “She’s coiled under the surface.”
“No,” I corrected. “She’s controlled.”
There’s a difference.
She didn’t try to charm him. Didn’t flirt. Didn’t offer too much or too little. Just enough silence to stay mysterious. Just enough confidence to keep his attention.
When he asked her what she’d do if someone touched her, she answered without hesitation.
Smile. Step away.
If they offered her money—refuse.
And when he pushed harder—when he asked if someone invited her to their suite?
