Page 6 of Broomsticks and Bloodstains
“My pleasure,” he replied with a crooked grin. “If you ever feel up to earning some extra cash again, I can add you to our large event list. We always need extra staff for larger events like this.”
“Thank you. I’ll think about it,” I assured him.
“You should all have your digital tips by Monday. If you don’t get them, please message me,” he explained. At the beginning of the night, they had collected everyone’s digital payment method of choice for all credit card or digital tips. Too tired to worry if the night had been as profitable as Isa assured me it would be, I shoved them in my bag and prepared to leave.
“I will, thank you again.”
"Of course,” he replied. “You have my number?”
“I do,” I confirmed.
“Okay, good.” He stood there for a moment like he was going to say more, but then one of the guys that was packing up all of the catering company’s equipment approached and asked him a question. He gave me a wave as he walked off with the guy.
“Oh my god, girl,” Isa whispered.
I glanced over to where she stood at my side. “What?”
“I think Esteban likes you!” She clutched my arm excitedly.
A laugh escaped and I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.” I played it off like it was no big deal, but my face heated. It had been over a year since I’d had a boyfriend. I’d been too busy to date.
“MmHmm, we’ll see,” she shot back with a smug grin.
“I’m honestly too tired to care,” I half-joked.
We dragged our asses out through the back entrance, the noise of the party an echo in my ears like the one after a rock concert. The catering van was idling in the circular driveway, exhaust curling into the night air. Isabella jogged ahead, already tossing her shoes into the van.
I followed, clutching mine in one hand. But just before I climbed inside, I stopped.
That feeling—the weight of eyes on me—crawled across my skin again.
The night was quiet, the massive house looming behind me like a sleeping beast. I couldn’t see him, not in the shadows that stretched across the drive. But I felt him. Watching. Waiting.
A chill slid down my spine.
I shook it off, forced myself into the van, and slammed the door shut. But even as the driver pulled away, I couldn’t shake the certainty that I hadn’t walked out of that mansion alone.
Chapter 7
Maksim
From the shadows of the veranda, I watched her leave.
Barefoot, heels dangling from one hand, her hair falling loose from the pins that held it back all night. She didn’t look back, not until she reached the van. When she paused, shoulders tightening, I knew she felt it—the weight of my gaze. Good. A girl who could sense danger might live a little longer in this world.
Konstantin stepped up beside me, hands in his pockets, mask long since discarded, but the cut of his tux still immaculate. “You’ve been staring at her all night,” he said in Russian, his tone dry as winter wind.
I didn’t answer right away. My eyes followed the catering van as it rolled down Popov’s drive, taillights bleeding red into the dark. Only when it disappeared beyond the iron gates did I finally speak.
“She heard too much.”
I’d gotten a text back from my contact with the little bit of info he already gathered on her. If only people realized how easy it was to find out almost every detail of their lives.
Konstantin shrugged, though his eyes sharpened. “Then you know what needs to be done.” His tone didn’t change. Facts were facts.
“Eh, it’s no problem. I can clean this up,” Dima offered.
I flexed my jaw. My world was simple—blood, loyalty, silence. Loose ends didn’t survive long. And the girl—Sofia Rodriguez—whoever the hell she was, had just become one.
