45. Evelyn
The mansion was a labyrinth, with tight hallways, and I was getting claustrophobic.
But I couldn’t ask Laszlo for help. Not right now. We had our tasks, and both of us had to do them perfectly, or this was all for nothing.
I didn’t spend the last year studying physics and chemistry and the differences between silver fulminates and silver nitrides and silver acetylides just to let him down.
I followed the directions that Zach had given Laszlo, and though I got turned around once, I finally saw a man, leaning against a doorframe. He was ominous and brooding, and when he heard my footsteps, he righted himself. His hand was on his gun, though I was twelve feet away.
“The party’s back the way you came,” he said, gruff, harsh.
I tried to appear as non-threatening as possible.
“I was hoping to see my girl,” I lied. “Olivia. She was sent to the kid’s party, but she’s never been to one before.”
Olivia was one of the kidnapped girls, but I hoped he didn’t know that.
He bristled. Said something into his headpiece.
A hand grabbed mine, and I spun about. A man’s face—a masked face—glowered down upon me, but I recognized the scent of cloves and wood from the last dinner party we hosted.
“Belle,” Urvan purred, not letting my hand go. “Well, you look like the picture of a tzarina! Did you get turned around again? Laszlo mentioned that directions weren’t your strong suit.”
My cheeks burned with humiliation.
Laszlo’s honied voice was in my ear. “No, I never said that. I told him when you got your license you liked to get lost and navigate your way home.” He was listening. Good.
My anxiety eased, though Urvan kept holding my hand. The gloves we both wore prevented skin-to-skin contact, so he couldn’t tell how clammy my palm was, at least.
His arm slid around me, and I had to dodge out of his way. I had to be very careful about anything touching my robe. I needed to get it off.
Friction might not be enough, but if there were static, that could spell my end.
“You’re missing the Pakhan’s speech. Laszlo has done much to impress me, and that in turn impresses the Pakhan. Your husband is very valiant, being here tonight. I’m certain it can’t be easy on him, after all the sacrifices he made for the bratskaya. That won’t be forgotten.”
My smile was tight, forgetting that my mask hid it. Urvan was too close to me. How had he recognized me? Had he heard me ask about my fake daughter?
I looked over my shoulder at the bodyguard who was still observing the two of us. I couldn’t get into the children’s room, so I followed Urvan’s lead.
“Laszlo is very single-minded and focused. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s impressed you,” I said, hoping my words were more beatific than I felt. Fear crept into my veins, turning me cold. My mouth began to water, wanting comfort that only Laszlo could provide.
Not the time or the place, body.
It was an uncomfortable arousal, and Urvan kept talking, but I was spacing out. When I regained my focus, he was telling me about a trip he made to my shop, and was talking about procuring a specific piece.
It relaxed me.
Not as much as Laszlo’s cock could, but at least him talking about such mundanities meant he didn’t have any suspicions about either of us.
“I’ve never been one for animals, though your little matching snake rings are very adorable.” He was being condescending, but I took on a professional air.
“Of course, there are lot more standard designs and settings. Were you thinking a ring, then?”
“A pendant. I want it to be gold with a black opal, and…”
It was so easy to slide back into work. I had given my employees a large bonus, telling them it was for Thanksgiving and the Christmas holidays. Soon they would find out through my will that the store had been handed over to them, to be operated as a worker collective.
I kept nodding to Urvan as he guided me back to the main ballroom. There were over a hundred people, all in gilded masks and formal attire. Well, outside some guards dressed all in black.
There was a man with a powerful aura, pontificating overhead in Russian. Laszlo had been teaching me Russian and Hungarian, his parent’s languages, but the speaker’s dialect was hard to follow.
Urvan touched my lower back, and my head spun.
I didn’t explode.
Obviously, I was pleased with that, but also it brought with it a new anxiety.
Maybe I’d done something wrong, and all these sensitive components were duds, and wouldn’t work.
I’d made smaller explosives previously, tested them near an abandoned mine that Laszlo knew about, and that definitely worked.
But they were cantankerous and delicate. Were they too old? Did they get exposed to too much carbon? Was the summer too hot and humid?
No. I had to believe that this would work.
And that I wouldn’t blow myself up in the meantime.