11. Vadim
11
VADIM
I push open my office door to find Demyon lounging in one of the leather chairs, feet propped on my desk.
"Get your boots off my desk."
He grins and drops his feet. "Good to see you too, bratishka . I've got that address you wanted for the McKinney girl?—"
"Nathan Walker's apartment. I know."
His eyebrows shoot up. "How did you?—"
"Because that's where I found her this morning." I pour myself two fingers of whiskey and take a slow sip. "She walked in while I was searching the place."
Demyon lets out a low whistle. "Talk about timing. What are the odds?"
"High, because she was engaged to him."
" Chto ?" Demyon's eyes narrow. "Are you saying that?—"
"Yes. Nathan Walker was her fiancé." The whiskey burns pleasantly down my throat. “What are the odds?”
" Blyat ." Demyon rubs his jaw. "Where is she now?"
"Here at Pankration." I set down my glass. "I've put her up in the blue suite."
"You brought her here ?" He leans forward. "Why?"
I take another sip of whiskey, letting its burn ground me to stop myself from thinking about Lacey's face when I told her my proposal. The way her amber-flecked eyes widened in shock, then narrowed with suspicion. The delicate flush that crept up her neck when I explained why it had to be her.
She'd squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, defiant even in her fear. Not once did she ever beg me for mercy.
Of course not, I remind myself of what she said when I held her in my arms on the dance floor at the Vorobyov event. She told me she doesn’t beg.
"Vadyusha?"
I realize that I've been silent, lost in thoughts of Lacey's soft blonde hair and irresistible curves screaming for me to touch.
"I'm going to marry her," I say, watching Demyon's reaction carefully. "She'll help us get that bible from the cathedral."
His mouth drops open. "Have you lost your mind? She's an outsider! Does she have any idea what she'll be asked to do?"
"She knows about Kirsan, and she knows this won't be a real marriage. She's just a means to an end." I set down my glass. The words taste false on my tongue. "Nothing more."
"What makes you so sure she's the right one for this?" Demyon's eyes lock onto mine. "What makes her so special?"
I stand and walk to the window, staring out at the manicured gardens below.
"She came up with something brilliant without even realizing it." I turn back to face him. "When I told her about the bible, she asked if I planned on smuggling it out in her wedding dress. Joking of course, but?—"
Demyon's eyebrows shoot up. "Not a terrible idea."
"Exactly." I pick up my glass again.
"Once you've hidden the bible in your new wife's dress, then what?" Demyon asks, all doubt about Lacey temporarily gone as he starts thinking out loud with me about our upcoming heist. "Kirsan's men will be all over us the moment we walk out of the cathedral."
“We’ll use the traditional tour of the city after the ceremony as our getaway.” I pull out my phone and bring up Google Maps. "It's a thirty-minute drive from the cathedral to the Issy-les-Moulineaux Heliport, and from there, we make for Melun Villaroche where the jet will be waiting. We can lose anyone following us in the Bois du Boulogne, especially if we use decoys."
"Not if Kirsan gets the police to block the bridges over the Seine." Demyon shakes his head as he looks at the map. "We'll need something a bit more unconventional."
"What do you suggest?"
"The Champs-élysées." He points. "I can have a speedboat parked under the Pont des Invalides."
"I like it." I nod as I follow the route Demyon draws. "The L'?le aux Cygnes would provide us cover from any potential gunmen on the right bank. And it'll put us right next to the heliport. Then, it's a short helicopter ride, a dash for the jet, and we'll be in the air."
"Where Kirsan can't touch us." Demyon leans forward.
"Exactly." I say.
"Now, let's take a step back. How do you intend on stealing the bible when the whole cathedral is looking at you?" Demyon asks.
"That's where you and Sayanaa come in, Demyushka." I nod. "I need you to piss her off even more at the moment she tries to make a scene. Give her a distraction that she can't tear her eyes from."
"And in the chaos, you'll make the switch with the one hidden in your fiancée's dress." Demyon grins. "Clean and simple."
"As long as everything goes according to plan."
"How fast are you planning to pull this off?" Demyon drums his fingers on my desk.
"Two weeks." I swirl the remaining whiskey in my glass. "And that's if we start moving now ."
"Two weeks?" Demyon's eyes widen. " Blyat . That's barely enough time to get the rings, let alone—" He pauses. "Wait. Who's going to make the dress? It needs to be perfect for this to work."
"Irina." The answer comes instantly and I set down my glass. "She understands what's at stake, given her past.”
But as soon as I say it, I can't help recall the way Lacey's eyes lit up when she talked about fashion at Mrs. Klossner's. The passion in her voice when she described the construction of her own shoes was palpable even then.
A part of me wants to let her design her own dress. To see what she can create, given the chance.
But this isn't about making her dreams come true.
This is about getting that bible and stopping Kirsan.
"Irina can incorporate what we need without compromising the design." I push away thoughts of Lacey's talent. "We can't risk any mistakes. No other outsiders."
"Then why not marry Irina?" Demyon's eyes lock onto mine. “If we need a bride, why not use her?"
My fingers tighten around the glass. "No."
“Like you said, she understands what’s at stake?—”
"I said no." The words come out sharper than intended. I set down my glass before I break it. "You weren't there that night, Demyushka. You didn't see what Kirsan did to her."
"But that was years ago?—”
"And what if she sees someone in the cathedral who causes her to freeze up at the critical moment?" I turn to face him. "One moment of hesitation is all it takes for everything to fall apart."
"You don't know that she'll?—"
"I won't risk it." The memory of finding Irina all those years ago, broken and bleeding, flashes through my mind. "She's suffered enough at Kirsan's hands. I won't put her through that again."
“So that’s it?” Demyon asks, a knowing smirk making its way to his face. “It has to be Lacey McKinney?"
“It does.”
“So you say.” Demyon's smirk grows just a little wider. "I'm sure the way she fills out her clothes has nothing to do with it."
"Watch yourself."
"Or what? You'll beat me like you beat Walker?" He spreads his arms wide. "Face it, Vadyusha. You want her. Not just for this plan of yours."
I grip my glass tighter, Demyon's words hitting too close to home.
The truth is, I do want Lacey. From the moment I saw her at Mrs. Klossner's, standing there in defiance with her chin lifted high, something inside me stirred.
And after that photo of her in my suit jacket, her legs spread invitingly.
I want to bury my face between her thighs and devour her, to taste her breaking on my tongue while she screams my name.
I want to possess her completely. To mark every inch of her soft skin. To hear her beg me—both for mercy and for more—to feel her shatter beneath me as I claim what's mine.
I want to bend her over my desk and fuck her until she forgets her own name. To tie her to my bed and use her for hours until she's begging me in a hoarse voice that she'll be my good girl and mine alone while my cum drips down her quivering pale thighs.
Even if she claims she doesn’t beg.
"This is a means to an end." I repeat myself. “As long as all of us keep that in mind, Lacey will not have her heart broken by me once this ruse is over."
"Do you really believe that? What if by the time this ruse is over, you realize that you can't let her go? What if by then, you've honest to God fallen for this girl? What then?"
“In two weeks? I doubt it.”
Before Demyon can say something else, a sharp frantic knock comes at my office door. I yank the door open to reveal Lenka, her weathered features twisted with worry.
"Vadim Petrovich!" She's breathless, clutching the doorframe. "The window—it's open. She's gone."
My blood runs cold. " What? "
"Ms. McKinney. I went to check on her and?—"
I'm already moving, shouldering past her into the hallway. My footsteps thunder down the corridor as I race toward the blue suite, Demyon close behind me.
I unlock the door and find the morning breeze stirring the curtains around an open window. On the bed lies a midnight-blue Svoboda dresses, carefully laid out as if she'd been considering it.
" Blyat! " I slam my fist against the wall. "How long?"
"No more than fifteen minutes." Lenka wrings her hands.
"Put up a drone to survey the grounds." I turn to Demyon. "She can't have gotten far."
"Vadim—"
" Now , Demyon!"
He nods sharply and strides out. I pull up Lacey's number and almost dial when I remember that I had left her purse at Walker's apartment. And even if I hadn't. There's no way she'd pick up the phone for me right now.
She's not stupid.
I move to the window and poke my head out. And that's when I notice it.
A tiny piece of thread that clinging to the rough stone surface. If I lean in close enough, I can almost imagine her citrus and lavender scent.
I drop down from the window, my expensive shoes squelching on the mud below. Another piece of thread catches my eye, snagged on a rough patch of stone several feet away.
Crouching down, I compare its position to the first one still clinging above.
And draw a straight line toward the tree line at the edge of the grounds.
Clever girl.
My pulse quickens as I imagine finding her. Will she try and fight me? Or will she come back willingly? Either possibility is making my blood sing in anticipation.
Without hesitation, I sprint toward the trees, my long legs eating up the distance. The familiar rush of the hunt floods my body, and I can't stop the grin spreading across my face at the thought of catching her.