Chapter 36
ZINAIDA
I’m terrified.
I stand in my fishbowl office, staring blankly at the slow-filling auditorium.
I should be backstage, getting dressed for my performance. Instead I’m here, absorbing the edgy, almost frenetic energy of the room and wondering why the fuck I insisted on doing this.
It isn’t the dance I’m worried about. I’ve danced burlesque since I was little more than a child.
The nuance and titillation of it is second nature, and I doubt I’ll ever stop appreciating the mastery involved in giving a great performance, the dramatic effect offered by a truly great costume and excellent choreography.
Whipping an audience into a state of heightened emotion and sensual expectation is something I truly enjoy, and under normal circumstances, I’d be quite looking forward to taking the stage again.
Except under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be expected to direct an orgy of overt sexual pleasure after the mask comes off.
And even if I could fudge it by doing what I did at the first ever Winter Ball—direct proceedings in the guise of a dominatrix, giving the orders without actually engaging myself—I’m not entirely sure I have it in me to play the part anymore.
Not after watching Sophie.
But I do need to be on the stage tonight, and be a target. I need Lowbridge to actually believe he can take me out, then take over my entire organization—or, at the very least, blackmail every one of the figures in attendance tonight to bend them to his will.
If I want to shut him down for good, this is the best way to do it.
I just have no idea how to handle the night, or myself, when the dance is over.
My phone rings. I look at the number, then answer it immediately. “Mak. I thought you’d have handed your phone in by now.”
“I’m calling from just outside the mile.” He pauses. “Macarthur Securities, huh? I have to give it to Luke—it’s a brilliant idea.”
“I know,” I say honestly. “I’d never have thought of it myself, and there’s no way in hell the government would ever give me that kind of contract even if I had. But Luke is an outstanding candidate. Agatha nearly turned cartwheels when I told her.”
“I take it you didn’t mention I was backing the concept,” Mak says dryly. “Agatha is hardly my greatest fan. Old tartar had me up before a parliamentary committee after that mess in Afghanistan.”
“No,” I say, laughing despite myself. “I didn’t. And I trust that you will hide the money trail well enough that she won’t suspect, either.”
“Darling.” He sounds almost offended. “I’m horrified you would ever doubt me. Now. Before I come through those doors, please reassure me that you plan to end tonight’s little game after your dance, and once Luke has our Lowbridge problem in hand.”
Temporarily lost for words, I remain silent.
“Zinaida.” Mak’s voice is slightly impatient.
“Luke Macarthur might be the closest to a saint of any man I know, but he’s also a man.
Don’t ask him to watch you play the starring role in an extremely public orgy.
No matter how willing he is to get blood on his hands, nor how much he can own the shadows, there are some kinds of darkness I do not wish to see him lost in. ”
“Perhaps,” I say tightly, “you should have thought of that before you sent him to me. You know what I am, Mak. You’ve always known.”
“I know what you’ve had to be, Zinaida, to build what you have. But knowing who you truly are is why Roman and I sent Luke to you.”
Once again, words escape me, but this time, it’s because I don’t trust myself to speak through the lump in my throat.
“It isn’t only Luke I don’t want to see lost in the darkness,” Mak says quietly. “I’d like to see you put it behind you as well, Zin. You spent long enough trapped in a cage. Whether you know it or not, you’ve earned the right to happiness. And it can exist in our world. Look at Roman and Darya.”
“That’s different.” My voice rasps uncomfortably in my throat. “They’re different.”
“No, Zin, they’re not. If anything, the two of them were far more lost and desperate than you’ve ever been.
And yet they’ve built more happiness than anyone I know.
You and Luke have the chance to do the same.
But if you insist on staying in a role you’ve outgrown, you’ll lose that chance forever.
That isn’t the ending you deserve—nor the one I know you want, no matter how bloody stubborn you might be. ”
Casting about for some kind of answer, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “And what about you, Mak? Are you going to take your own advice? I don’t see you rushing off to settle down.”
“Oh, darling.” His low chuckle down the phone makes me smile despite myself. “Your dancers would be devastated if I suddenly reformed. And besides, we both know I’m quite beyond saving.”
He ends the call, leaving me smiling into the dim light of my office, which suddenly seems slightly brighter than it did a short time ago.
Backstage, the atmosphere is electric. I’m in my private dressing room, feeling the tension build as I start applying makeup and Shelby puts the finishing touches on my hair, an elaborate confection loaded with feathers and sequins.
It’s two hours until midnight, so my costume is hanging in its cover on the rack, and I’m still wearing a silk robe.
“Have you seen the crowd out there?” Shelby’s eyes are wide and luminous with excitement as she steps back to admire her work. “I swear there are more billionaires sitting in those booths than at a Davos convention.”
“I’m sorry I stole your crown.” I give her an apologetic look in the mirror.
“Yes. You suck.” She gives me a rueful smile.
“I forgive you, but only because it’s life-and-death and all that intense stuff.
” She shoots the door leading out to the stage a longing look.
“I’ve spent all year seducing the client list to make tonight’s orgy the wildest on record, so if you mess it up, I’m going to kill you. Just saying.”
“Noted.” I smile despite my heart skipping uneasily in my chest. A knock comes at the door, and I belt my robe more tightly. “Come in.”
“Ooh.” Shelby bats her eyelashes over my head as the door opens.
“McTasty! They normally don’t let men backstage, but for you, darling, we are all happy to make an exception.
” She sways close to Luke’s enormous figure.
“New tux?” she purrs, trailing her fingers across his shoulder.
“We should put you onstage. The women in the audience would tear it off you in seconds.”
Luke removes her fingers with a practiced smile. “Make sure you’re costumed up and ready to go onstage in case we need you, Shelby.”
“Darling.” She gives him an arch stare. “I’m always ready.”
Looking between Luke and me, her mouth curls into a knowing smile. “Well, then. I’ll just leave you to it, shall I?” Blowing Luke a kiss, she sashays out of the room, closing the door behind her with a firm click.
I busy myself with the makeup case on the counter, avoiding his eyes. “Everything good to go?”
“Yes.” Luke comes to stand behind me, close enough to make me shiver, too far for me to fall back against him, which I badly want to do.
The Hollywood mirror shows my face in vivid detail, while Luke’s figure is a huge shadow.
His hands are thrust into his pockets, and although I can’t read his eyes in the dim light, I can feel them tracing my skin.
“That’s some hairdo,” he says.
I touch the towering peacock feathers. “It’s going to be a long night,” I say lightly.
I don’t have to see his face clearly to know it just closed over.
He pulls a tablet out of his jacket pocket and taps the screen, holding it up behind my head to show a close-filmed live stream of the home secretary sitting in a booth with Simon Lowbridge.
“I thought you’d want to watch this,” Luke says. I turn to find him watching me with dark, opaque eyes that I know from experience disguise laser focus.
“I thought you’d be too busy to be back here.”
“I wanted you to see this as it happens. But don’t worry.” His eyes rest on mine. “When you perform tonight, I’ll be watching. Closely.”
Relief floods through me, closely followed by a frisson of excitement.
Luke, watching me perform burlesque.
The thought turns me on a little more than I might like to admit.
Then I think of what comes after the moment of unmasking, and I’m hit by what feels like vertigo, sudden and sickening.
Luke, watching me participate in London’s most public orgy.
I close my eyes instinctively, unable to even contemplate it.
And yet, I think dully, he should see it. See exactly what I really am, what this life is, once you tear away the illusion.
I open my eyes to find him still watching me. “I’ll be exactly where you need me to be tonight,” he says quietly. “Standing between you and anyone stupid enough to try to hurt you.” Something in his eyes says he knows exactly how terrified I truly am.
Just not for the reasons he believes me to be.
I don’t care about the men trying to kill me.
I care about Luke, about how he will see me after this night is done.
Thankfully, before that thought becomes too overwhelming, Luke props the tablet on the dressing table in front of me.
“Here we go,” he says, hitting the audio.
He leans forward, bracing himself with one large hand on the table, his body so close to mine I can inhale his fresh ocean scent and feel the warmth radiating from him.
God, I want him. I want to melt back into him and forget about the feathers and the glitter and the world I come from.
Instead, I take a deep breath and focus on the conversation playing out in front of me.
“I must admit,” Simon Lowbridge is saying onscreen, “I was extremely surprised to receive your invitation today, Home Secretary. I had no idea you were a member here.”