Page 38 of A Pawn in the Game
My instant reaction is shame. My cheeks heat realizing I have no makeup on. My hair is a mess, and I haven’t shaved in weeks. But I squash that reaction as well as I can.
I’m a good person. I don’t work with criminals. At least not unless I’m under a death threat, which makes me better than all these people.
Leon’s smile is wide, and he looks in his element. Luka, on the other hand, is still holding my elbow in a tight grip. His jaw is locked, and he looks like he’d rather be anywhere other than here. His eyes travel the room and back, repeatedly, as if he’s checking for danger. His shoulders are tense and it’s then I realize I’m still wearing his jacket. I take it off and hand it to him, snapping him out of his surveillance fugue.
“You don’t need it anymore?” he asks, his gaze lingering on my dress longer than necessary.
I’m not used to being looked like that, so my nipples tighten, reminding me I’m not wearing a bra. I shake my head and look away, clearing my throat.
“You know the mayor?” I ask, trying to break this awkward silence.
“I do. So don’t try any funny business.”
I swallow; any hope I held for tonight slowly leaving me. Desperation builds in my stomach. This was supposed to be my chance. But I guess this place is filled with crooked cops and corrupt politicians, mingling with mobsters who are at war with each other.
The only hope I have is to survive the night.
Leon networks around the room, while Luka eyes the bar. He places his hand on my upper arm and drags me toward it, but we’re interrupted before we reach it.
“Mr. Petrovic.” It takes me a second to realize that the voice belongs to the mayor himself. “I’m glad you have made time in your busy schedule to come here tonight.” The older man shakes Luka’s hand, his slicked back white hair not moving an inch. A tattoo peeks out from Luka’s sleeve and the mayor’s eyebrow ticks, showing his contempt. He quickly hides it with a polite smile before turning to me, his blue eyes staring at me with vigilance. “And who do we have here?”
Words escape me.What if I told him the truth?What if I asked him to help me? He is a public servant, after all. A publicservant who works closely with the mafia, even though, judging by the look he gave Luka, he despises them.
Thoughts flood my brain, and Luka utilizes the pause to introduce me himself. “This is Sophie, my date.”
I barely suppress a scoff. The mayor extends his hand for me to shake, and I do the same. Unease pulls at me as his cold, thin hand wraps around mine. I can’t fully explain the feeling, but something in my gut moves me closer to Luka.
As if noticing, Luka breaks the moment. “If you’ll excuse us… We have more people we need to say hello to.”
“Of course. Hope you have a great night.” The mayor’s face twists into a snakelike smile.
Luka hauls me away, once again turning me toward the bar. I practically jump out of my skin when I feel his breath on my neck.
“I was kind of waiting for you to introduce yourself as my hostage,” he says under his breath, his lips pressed to my ear. My skin prickles again, though it’s not the cold’s fault this time.
What he’s doing makes sense considering he introduced me as his date, but it’s more intimate than any interaction we ever had, and I step away from his touch, drawing in a deep breath.
“I guess I figured it wouldn’t make a difference,” I respond.
He falls back for a step before catching up to me. His lips press into a line, like he wanted me to fight back.
“Two whiskeys, please,” he tells the bartender tersely.
“No need,” I say, but the bartender already put down two glasses on the dark mahogany bar and is filling them up with amber liquid.
Luka raises his eyebrows at me.
“I don’t drink alcohol.”
Luka scoffs, bringing his glass to his lips.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, finding my voice. His reactions infuriate me. He tells me not to try any funny business but acts disappointed when I don’t fight back. He ignores my wishes but still has opinions about them.
“It doesn’t surprise me you don’t drink, that’s all.” I purse mylips, waiting for him to continue. “You’re vegan, you don’t wear makeup, you practically never leave the house, and you dress like Adam Sandler.” He shrugs. “You’re a goody two shoes. It just makes sense you don’t drink.”
This time, I’m the one to scoff. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He downs the whiskey and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before smirking at me. “Oh yeah? Did I get something wrong?”
