Page 16 of The Crimson Lily
He chuckles again and pulls me in closer to him. I’m almost touching his torso with my chest.
“There are some people here with information about where your boss keeps his dagger,” he begins to explain with a whisper in my ear. “I need to get that information, and you’re going to help me.”
I gasp a little because he’s fully pressed me against him as people pass by us. We have to step a few feet out of the way as a swarm of more and more fancy clothes rush into the room. I am now completely curled up against his athletic chest. I can almost hear his heartbeat.
Mine has stopped.
Among the latest batch of people is the man whose name still makes me cringe. William de Loit walks in wearing a midnight-blue suit, accompanied by two women in cocktail dresses and Mr. Zhang, whom I immediately recognize. Maksim must sense how my body has stiffened because I feel a soft caress on my skin. Once William is out of sight, Maksim releases me and turns to face me.
“So, Liliana, how do you suggest we proceed?” he asks.
Darn it! Hearing him say my name is just—no, stop it, Liliana, stop going there.
I take a deep breath and think for a second before I wonder why I have to be the one making the plan. “You tell me! You’re the one who has experience with this.”
Yet another chuckle from him. “I thought I’d leave some room for your input.” There it is, that dashing smile again.
The curious and adventurous child in me awakens. I’m actually getting excited at the idea of coming up with a recon plan, like I’m going to be part of a spy movie.
I click my tongue before divulging my elaborate plan. “All right! Any ideas who could have access to that information?”
He purses his lips to think. “Hmm, we should look for people who seem close to him.”
“I have an idea!” I immediately exclaim. “I’ll start with Mr. Zhang. You take the ladies who came in with him.”
“Gladly,” he says with a low voice and a smirk, like he is eager to talk to those pretty flowers.
I roll my eyes—how typical. Prince Charming here is going for the beautiful ladies with his triumphant allure. His eyes shimmer with a greedy spark as he paces away from me and toward them. Man, he is handsome. I sigh, dazzled, and a little sad to see him go.
After the quick introduction speech from a middle-aged man with fluffy white hair on the ballroom’s stage, thanking everyone for coming here and encouraging all of us to have a good time and enjoy the art, I go for a well-deserved glass of champagne. Actually, it’s my third flute by now. At the back of the ballroom are stands of flowing wine and champagne and amuse-bouches to die for. Long spoons complemented with salmon over a nest of tzatziki. Little toasts with avocado or broccoli cream. Caviar—as if the champagne is not enough! Upside-down shrimps dipped in sweet and sour sauce. I stop at the figs and walnuts over thin slices of brie and watermelon sashimi. There are sushi of all colors and shapes, miniature salmon wraps, caprese bites, and—the best for last—a wide assortment of tiny muffins and brownies.
I am munching on five different things at the same time when I meet eyes with Maksim, who’s been talking with one of William’s associates for a while now, a woman who appeared a little later and latched on to William’s arm. A woman with verylong brown hair, slim—slimmer than me—who wears a tight blue dress without sleeves. Her legs are infinite, and she stands on a pair of silver cutout heels. She is standing real close to Maksim. He whispers something in her ear, then I hear her loud laugh, even over the music coming from the other room. What an annoying laugh! I can’t believe how Maksim can stand that brainless woman! I don’t like the feeling this scene gives me. Is it…jealousy? How is that even possible? He’s been talking with the same woman for about twenty minutes, which borderline infuriates me. I feel silly, stupid, and I gulp the last piece of my brownie like my life depends on it.
When I turn around, I see my target, Mr. Zhang, talking to William in the distance. The only thought that crosses my mind is that I need to get him away from de Loit so I can talk to him without the risk of blowing my cover. I’m talking like a proper spy now. I wait a few minutes, but these two really seem to be having the longest conversation of all time. I’m about to return to the table of amuse-bouches when I accidentally bump into a man.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, then I look up at him.
Quite a handsome man, if I may say so. He has blond hair combed to the side, light-blue eyes that look like they’re made of glass, and his smooth stubble decorates his square jaw. At first, his eyes aren’t particularly amused, but when he sees me, and my delicately open cleavage, he gives me a warm smile and invites me to shake his hand. I comply and return his smile.
“May I ask your name?” he inquires, with an accent I can’t quite define. It’s definitely not French.
“L…Ana…Kovalyo…va.” I’m glad to be so quick on my feet. I almost gave him my name! Close call.
He lowers his head closer to mine to give me a bow. “Kovalyova…Are you Russian?”
I nod, thinking that’d be more believable than me directly saying yes and giggling because I told a lie.
“Nice to meet you, Ana,” he says as he gives a small kiss to my hand he’s still holding. “I’m Victor Brugge. I work for DIVA, the Antwerp Home of Diamonds.”
I want to yell my sarcasticCongratulations! but I refrain from doing so. “Oh, Belgium! What brings you here, Victor?” I say with a smile that could make anyone believe I’m interested in everything this man has to tell.
He takes a step closer to me so he won’t have to talk loudly among the crowd. “I’m here for my friend, William. He’s right there—” He points at the red-haired man whom I absolutely despise by now.
I give him three ample nods like I’m eager to hear more. So, I let him tell me everything about his friendship with William, their time working together in some art gallery, their holiday together in Rome, and he goes on and on. I don’t even have to ask him a thing. I just have to smile, nod, and express how surprised I am at everything he says. There is no doubt, Victor is definitely a talker. And he really won’t stop talking.
While he’s telling me another one of his stories, I spot Maksim in the distance, still talking to the same lady in blue. Only this time, he’s checking on me every two to three minutes. He has a certain look on his face, one that I can’t really place.
“…and then there’s that dagger of glass he keeps talking about!” Victor exclaims, which instantly catches my attention.
