Page 26 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

“Aye-aye, captain.”

He smirks but kills it a second later. “Pay attention. This is important.”

“I’m listening.”

“We’re going to maintain an open call line. Keep your phone on speaker,” he says. “When you say ‘I always lose,’ I’ll start heading inside. From there, I’ll need you to maintain the distraction for three minutes so I can get through the doors, past security, and into the building proper.”

I nod, my heart suddenly racing. “So tonight’s the night.”

“Tonight’s the night,” he echoes.

I shudder. A man will die tonight. A man I’ve never met, who’s never done anything to me, is going to die at Dima’s hands.

He lays one of those hands on my shoulder. It takes everything I have not to flinch away.

“You’ll be fine, Arya. You can do this.”

“I know I can, but can you?” It’s supposed to sound playful, taunting, accusatory.

But the truth is that I’m terrified.

Terrifiedofhim.

Terrifiedforhim.

Terrified of what happens next.

For the last few days, I’ve had Dima in my life in a way that feels almost… normal? Well, as normal as it can be to spend nights casing a casino and preparing to infiltrate for a murder. But I’ve had him here. I’ve seen him. Touched him. Smelled him. Fucked him.

So what if I have to leave this casino tonight without him? What if he doesn’t come out and meet me at the car? What ifIdon’t make it out?

A thousand thoughts and possibilities, most of them tragic, are circling around my head. I feel like I can’t breathe.

“Yes,” he growls, “I can. Do your job and I’ll do mine.” His voice is cold and certain.

I want to have his level of confidence, but when I get out of the car, my legs are shaky.

This is really happening. Actually happening.

I glance over my shoulder once just before I go in. Dima is watching me. I still haven’t decided if that’s my dream come true or a nightmare turned reality.

Out of habit, I scan the lobby on my way into the casino, trying to take note of every single important detail.

Then I remember it doesn’t matter. It’s too late. There will be no reconnaissance meeting tonight, no exchanging of information.

I’ve told Dima everything I’m going to tell him. There’s nothing more to add.

I hope to God I’ve told him enough.

The casino is smoky and dim. Same as I’ve done for three nights running, I exchange my cash for chips and head to the poker tables.

The dealer at the first table is the same one I had the night before. He tips his head in recognition, but otherwise, doesn’t pay any special attention to me.

I play a few rounds, losing each one. “Bad luck,” I slur, gathering my chips. “New table.”

The other losers at the table nod in agreement as they scatter, but the winner, a tall man in a cowboy hat, bids us goodbye as he stacks up his chips.

I order a drink. “Vodka soda, please.” Contrary to Dima’s instructions, I need some liquid courage to get through the evening this time around.

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