Page 111 of The Payback

Oksana and I stand dutifully beside our husbands. Nik hovers just beyond, and it looks like Sergei and Oksana have their own bodyguard as well, just behind them. It’s too loud to carry on a conversation, but thankfully, the lights flicker after just a few minutes, and we’re called towards our seats.

Oksana slips her arm through mine and says, “We’re this way. We have a private box.”

I smile gratefully and walk beside her. Sergei leads the way, handing tickets over to an usher who turns on his heel and leads us up a set of stairs and towards the private boxes.

It’s beautifully appointed inside the box, and there are two rows of chairs set up, four chairs per row. Oksana leads me front and centre and sits to my right. Dimitri takes the chair on my left, and Sergei completes our front row.

After checking the door and ensuring we’re safe—from who, I don’t know—but I doubt there will be an assassination attempt at the opera, Nik and the bodyguard stand silent beside the opening.

There are some canapes from the lobby, champagne flutes, and a bottle of bubbly.

Dimitri leans close to me. “You hungry or thirsty?”

“I got it,” Nik says from the side, handing over a small plate with a couple of snacks and a glass of champagne. “Oksana, is there anything I can get for you?” he asks.

“Well, well, Nikita,” she appraises. “That’s very kind of you. I’ll have a glass of champagne, please.”

Nik pours the glass and returns, handing it over with a flourish.

Oksana accepts it with a smile. “You always were a charmer,” she says. “You know Maria Petrov’s sister is available. Might be a good match.”

Sergei chuckles, his hand resting on his belly. “That girl would drive Nik mad,” he counters.

“She’s not a girl. She is a woman now,” Oksana says, rolling her eyes.

“She’s barely past her eighteenth birthday,” Sergei argues.

“Legally, she may be an adult, but she is not ready, nor is she suitable for a man like Nikita,” Dimitri butts in. “Leave him be. When he is ready and wants to marry, we will come to you for your matchmaking advice. Until then, he is my bodyguard and shall remain so. I can’t have him distracted by a wife at home.”

“Fair point, well made,” Sergei says, looking down the row of us and pinning his wife with a gaze I would hate to be on the receiving end of.

Nik just shrugs, and Oksana looks adequately chastised, but as she turns towards the stage, a slight smile lingers on her lips.

Instantly, I get it. She’s just put it on their radars that it might be time for Nik to settle down. And, of course, like any good tactician, she threw out a horrible choice first. Because then, when she throws out her real choice, they’ll have no option but to sit up and pay attention.

Between now and then, Sergei will think about Nik settling down and which family he’ll marry into. Too bad for them, we plan to be long gone by then.

But Oksana is a shark swimming with eels. Her manipulation is subtle, like creeping vines. I can see why she runs the wives’ club.

Oksana turns towards me with a slight smile on her lips. I tip my head at her, acknowledging I’ve understood the point she’s just made.

“Well done,” she murmurs. “You’re learning quickly.”

Dimitri and Sergei talk about work, and of course, everyone on our team has cameras and mics, so I’ll be able to review this later and send it to the other agents. At the same time, I focus on Oksana as she chatters on about the opera we’re about to see.

“Elsa, would you mind coming with me to the ladies’ room to powder our noses?” Oksana asks after a few minutes. “I’d hate to miss a moment of the performance.”

I nod, and she stands gracefully from her chair. Dimitri takes my glass, and I follow suit. Sergei, Dimitri, Nik, and the other bodyguard stand with us in a show of chivalry.

“We’ll be back in just a minute. The bathroom is right across the hall,” Oksana says. Her guard takes a step to come with us, but she says, “Please, Pavel, don’t bother. It’s quite literally four steps away.”

Nik looks from Oksana to me, and I give him a smile and a nod. Pavel follows Oksana’s orders without second-guessing, and I don’t miss the look she gives Nik.

We leave the box, cross the hall, and enter the private bathroom for the nearby boxes.

“You have Nik well trained,” she says when she reaches the vanity, checking her face for imperfections that don’t exist.

“Well trained?” I ask.

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