Page 88 of Only for Him
No, little viper,I think.Not like that. You’re the only one.
Lord knows I couldn’t handle two of her.
She shakes her head, then stops. “You’re sure she’ll trust me?”
“No,” I say. “But she’ll trust you more than me. Or anyone else.”
She swallows, throat moving. Oh, thatfuckingthroat. “My shoes…”
I look down. The heels are sharp enough to stab a jugular.
“The heel is foldable,” I tell her. “Push at the arch.”
She stares at me, then bends down and presses at the instep. The heel clicks in, leaving a flat, flexible sole.
“Shit,” she mutters, impressed. “I hate that you think of everything.”
“No, you don’t,” I say.
What she really hates is how much I already know her.
Rosa’s going to smell that on her the second we meet.
She’s about to snap back when there’s a sound at the door: an electronic whine, then a click. I go tense, fist in my pocket. Thedoor swings open, and a man in a suit steps in, followed by the girl.
She’s built like she’s had to fight for every inch of her body. Red hair, eyes like razors. She’s wearing a pale slip dress, shoulders bare. The man puts a hand on her elbow, but she jerks away.
Good. She’s strong.
He presents her like a dish at a restaurant, then leaves.
I step forward, shoulders slumped and palms out. I nudge my mask up, revealing my full face.
I’ve learned that the difference between a rescue and a kidnapping is all in the body language. Same hands, same tools.
I just have to make sure she believes my intent.
“Dakota Stepanovna,” I say, voice soft. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Giselle watching me. She’s never heard that voice before.
Layer after fucking layer with this woman.
Dakota looks at me, then at Giselle, then back to me.
“Kto vy?” she says, so flat it might as well be a threat.Who are you?
Her eyes bore into me, twin stars of skepticism and despair.
“We’re here to get you out.”
“I know your father,” I say. “Stepan Kharazin. He was one of Timofey’s brigadiers, yes?”
Her face goes hard. “Everyone knew my father.”
“Knew?”
“Starkov killed him.” She spits the answer. “All of them. My father, my mother, my brother. I’m the last. And I’ll be dead soon, too.”
“No, you won’t,” I say. “We’re not going to let that happen.”
