Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Katarina
Win’s hand at my back is the only reason I move up the stairs.
The moment we enter the foyer of the Dover Museum, I realize why my body is revolting.
The why of its response is evident that moment I catch a large banner on the far wall. “This is a fundraiser for Ukraine.”
“Yes.” He keeps pushing me forward.
“But…” I look at him, trying to understand. Because an event like this will be filled with Russians. Some making a stand against their country’s invasion. Others exonerating themselves of guilt. And many attempting to play both sides of the conflict.
But either way…
“Why did you bring me here?” I finally manage to push out.
“Relax. It’s all part of the plan.” Win keeps propelling me forward.
“What plan?” I croak. Certainly not the one where he pumps me for intel. This is completely different.
“We’re making a statement tonight.” He stops, dead in the middle of the crowd.
“What statement?” I half gasp, half whisper. I knew that Win has been playing me this entire time, but I didn’t think… “You said you were going to bring one of your debutantes tonight.”
“No. You said that.”
Shit. He’s right. I did say that. I stop, nearly falling forward at the pressure of his hand at my back. Instead, his other hand comes to my stomach to catch me. “Katarina.”
There is a warning in his tone. I’m to keep moving, or else. “Violence doesn’t motivate me.”
“I know.”
I might be in three-inch heels, but I still have this feeling like I should run. We drove twenty, twenty-five minutes. And Win has separated me from my fallback money. I’m here, it’s at the estate. Bastard. If I go now, I’ve got no means with which to travel.
But maybe I should still slip into the night. Leave. I can do it without the cash. It’ll take longer but…
“What will motivate you?” he asks, as the crowd moves around us.
I look up at him, trying to control the panic. It makes no sense that his dark brown eyes should calm me when he’s the one creating the chaos. “Knowledge, for starters. Why am I here, Win?”
He draws in a deep breath and then lets it out through his nose. “You’re here tonight as the cheese.”
I blink up at him, my brain fritzing for a moment before it clears. “Cheese?”
“I want your father to know. I want him to come.”
My mouth falls open as I try to process what he just said. I’m bait. Just a small fish meant to bring in the big prize.
That’s when I look to the left and catch the gaze of a Russian diplomat, Boris Checkov. I suck in a breath as I blink several times.
Boris stares back, his eyes widening in surprise. My knees nearly give out, it’s Win’s hands on my back and stomach that keep me from going down. I watch in horror as Boris pulls out his phone and punches the screen before he brings it to his ear.
A small cry falls from my lips. I had a plan of my own. And this is not it.
Because Win’s plan is already in motion. Boris is as dirty as a diplomat can be, and my father will know in minutes that I’m here.
I only have an hour—less—to decide. Do I run? Can I run in a manner my father won’t find me, or do I hide in Win’s shadow? “You lied to me.”
“No, kitten. I never lied. Not once.”
I look at him then, emotion clogging my throat. His face is hard, unreadable.
I try to play back what he’s said to me, but I can’t remember the details in this moment. Maybe he hasn’t lied. Win is the strongest, most rigid man I know. He doesn’t need to manipulate to gain power.
I can read his expression as my eyes mist with tears. “I’m the sacrificial pawn.”
“Yes.”
I blink back my tears. “Do you intend for me to die?”
“No. I don’t intend it.”
But he’s considered the possibility. I tremble, Win’s hands pressing harder. “I told you, you are my father’s dream of the perfect match. We could—”
“Under different circumstances, luring your father to England by faking an engagement would work.”
“But not under these circumstances?”
“No. He knows I’d never marry his daughter.”
I choke because this is the man who lay on top of me last night. Who… “Tell me.”
“Not here.”
“Where?” for the first time since I walked through the door, irritation pulses through me. I cling to it, I need it. I’ve gone soft and then scared. But if I’m going to survive this, I’m going to need to be filled with rage.
And why shouldn’t I be? Win is just another man attempting to use me, manipulate me, and then throw me away.
“On the way home, if you insist on knowing.”
“I do.” And then I spin in his arms. If he wants to stop me, he’ll have to cause a scene, which means, he lets me go.
I keep my head high as I make my way out of the door I just entered.
The parking attendant sees me, and radios for the car to come back. Win and I must have been notable that the attendant doesn’t need to ask who I am.
Then I feel the hand at my back.
Win.
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to hear your story. I don’t care what happened in your past.”
“Too late. I’m telling you mine and you’re telling me yours.”
“No.” I can feel the tears I try never to let fall filling my eyes. Double damn him. Not only has he completely double-crossed me, now he’s made me cry. I hate him.
Hate his guts.
“You don’t have a choice, kitten. You know as well as I do, that your best chance for making it through a war with your father is at my side.”
“Do I know that?”
“You’re more strategic than most, so I know you’ve figured that much out.”
I don’t answer. There is nothing to say.
I’ll listen, because it’s in my best interest to do so. And then…
I’m getting the fuck out of Lord Winston Smith’s life.
I never want to see him again.