Chapter 15 - Augusto #2
The rest of dinner is uneventful. I coast my gaze every so often across the other tables and diners, but so far no one is obviously Bratva, apart from perhaps the man sitting across from me with a wife who doesn’t speak English.
The names Nicholas and Anna are generic enough, but they’re also popular Russian names if spelled a certain way.
Thankfully, my distraction goes unnoticed because Erin—my wife—is dazzling.
Her interactions over the course of the evening are light and warm, not letting conversation become too heavy or stale, keeping it moving with witty one-liners and astute observations.
I’m almost disappointed when guests begin to retire for the evening, ready for a day of briefings, covert examinations and assessments, and laying the groundwork for negotiations. I’m not the only one.
I’ve noticed the sidelong glances and lingering looks all directed at my so-called wife, and I have to admit, it makes my hairs bristle, and my tux feel tight and uncomfortable.
But then I remember, I’m the one taking Erin back to my room. My chest expands at the thought of getting one over on these assholes. No one needs to know we’re about to sleep with a railroad of pillows between us.
“Well, that was interesting,” Erin says back in the suite, removing a set of gold droplet earrings.
“What was?”
“Dinner.”
“What was so interesting about it?”
“Just, a very eclectic group of people, that’s all.”
I loosen my bowtie, sliding it free from my collar. After her intelligent interactions over dinner, I’m interested to hear her thoughts. “Can you elaborate?”
“Todd and Janey seem to be terribly out of their depth. Todd kept fiddling with his cufflinks like he was super nervous.”
I shake off my jacket, laying it to rest on the back of a chair. “Go on.”
“On a few occasions I noticed him glug back his drink, then stop abruptly as if he’d forgotten himself. And Janey watched him closely all through dinner, hardly saying a word.”
Removing my own cufflinks, I walk into the bedroom and place them by the bed. Erin leans against the doorframe to remove her heels.
This information is useful. As per my own observation, Todd isn’t a criminal by trade—he’s too shit-scared for that. His waxy skin is that of someone who works in an office, with people who are compliant, bored and demotivated. He’s here not because he’s powerful, but because he’s desperate.
“And the British couple,” Erin continues, “they hardly looked around the room when they arrived. I thought they would have been more curious about the other guests, but they didn’t seem to care who else was there.”
I process this insight. Their lack of concern about other couples tells me they don’t need this deal. It could be that the deal needs them. Maybe they’re legacy financiers or facilitators.
When I go to return to the main suite, Erin stands in the doorway twirling a stiletto in one hand.
“You’re going to take someone’s eye out with that,” I mutter as she steps aside to let me pass.
“Don’t give me ideas.” It could be the effect of a glass of crisp white wine, but her voice sounds deeper than usual.
Sultry, even.
Jeez, I can’t afford to think about that—not when I’m about to share a bed with her.
“And the Russians… She may not speak English, but—”
“Wait—” I whip round to face her. “How do you know they’re Russian?”
Her frown dips. “I asked them.”
My brows shoot up.
“You were in the restroom.”
I unbutton the top of my shirt, enjoying the way her gaze drops and her speech falters for a brief moment.
Her stilettoes fall to the floor. “And my husband’s aunt is Russian and can’t speak English, so I had to learn a little bit.”
Slowly pushing my hands into my pockets, I blink. “I’m sorry, what?”
I follow when she walks into the bedroom, wrestling with a pendant clasp at her nape.
“Well, often she would visit for weeks at a time. I got tired of having to play charades every time I needed to communicate with her. I can’t speak the language but I can understand bits here and there.”
Stepping up behind her, I gently push her fingers out of the way so I can undo the damn clasp. My chest is thumping. Of all the fake wives I could have chosen—which were few, granted—I picked one who understands Russian?
Her secret skill could be a gamechanger for this mission, but I need to think carefully about how to make the most of it without giving away the real reason I brought her here.
“Did you notice anyone else speaking Russian?”
Her cheeks are pink when she turns to take the necklace from my fingers. I realize I’m standing only inches from her, invading her space. I’d only need to bend my head a little and my lips would line perfectly with hers.
I have to force a step backwards, remembering the promise I made to myself in honor of what I came here to do. The mission is everything. I can’t allow my growing infatuation with this woman to derail me.
She releases a breath, watching me. “No.”
My heart sinks a little.
“But I noticed a few other oddities. The woman on the next table along, face puffed out with Botox, she was on her phone constantly. The brunette with the emerald earrings? I swear I’ve seen her in a gossip column—she’s married to some tech billionaire.”
“Interesting.”
“And the blonde sitting next to her?” Erin smirks. “She wore her wedding ring on the wrong finger.”
I stare at her. “You’re good. This is useful stuff.”
She shrugs, a smile tugging at her mouth. “People have underestimated me my whole life. I’m pleased to be able to help.”
“Well, you were great tonight. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Her eyes narrow, playfully. “This isn’t a swingers retreat, is it?”
The thought of it hardens something inside my chest.
“Because if it is, I’m opting out.”
My voice drops suddenly. “I wouldn’t share you if the human race depended on it.”
Erin’s smile falls and her breath hitches.
We stare at each other, an electric tension crackling the air in the room.
After a few long, heated seconds of silence, Erin clears her throat. “Bathroom.”
I nod and she grabs her bag and flees, clicking the door shut behind her.