Tatyana was back in Elene Beridze’s conference room, her hand resting on the messenger bag in the seat next to her, when two people walked in.
One was Elene, and the other was a man.
No, more than a man. A presence.
Tatyana wasn’t impressed by men. Growing up without a father made her keenly aware that men held too much power over most women’s lives. Her mother pined for a man who never loved her. Her grandfather had been the rare exception in her life, but she’d never become attached to a boyfriend or a lover because in her experience, men were not dependable.
But the man who took the seat next to Elene was magnetic.
He was dressed in a dark grey suit the color of charcoal and wore a wine-red shirt under his jacket that was open at the collar. No tie. Dark, reddish brown hair was swept back from his face and a trim beard covered his jaw.
He sat across from her, staring at Tatyana with keen grey eyes the color of storm-clouds. He was tall, even while sitting, and she knew he’d tower over her if he stood. He was also handsome, but it was the least impressive thing about him.
Whatever cologne he was wearing smelled like cedar and sweet smoke, and she was tempted to lean toward him. She resisted. Power radiated from him and in her gut, Tatyana knew he was dangerous.
Her research had told her that SMO International was a legitimate multinational company not connected to organized crime or owned by a known oligarch, so why did this man have the bearing of a gangster?
Elene said, “Miss Vorona, this is my employer, Mr. Sokolov, the CEO of SMO International.”
His voice was low and curt. “She knows who I am.” He spoke in Russian, not English.
“I don’t know who you are,” Tatyana responded in Russian too. “But you look like the boss.”
The corner of his mouth curled up. “Then you know who I am.”
Sokolov. He looked like a bird of prey, ready to snatch up the pale little girl sitting in front of him. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties, but something about him told Tatyana he was older than he looked.
His gaze on her didn’t waver; Tatyana felt like she was under a microscope.
“Elene thinks you can find the money Zara stole. Is she right?”
Tatyana glanced at Elene. “I think Ms. Beridze is rarely wrong.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I think it is.”
He didn’t look away, and his constant attention felt like a burn on her skin.
Sokolov said, “I don’t like it when people lie to me.”
Tatyana narrowed her eyes. “You think I’m lying?”
“I think Zara is very smart and very conniving.”
“Agreed.” Tatyana leaned forward. “But I’m smarter than she is. And I found the connection between ZOL Enterprises and SMO International, so I’m smarter than whoever tried to hide her company, don’t you think?”
“I’m the one who tried to hide her company.” His mouth twitched again at the corner, almost as if he wanted to smile. “So you think you’re smarter than me?”
Well shit. “Maybe I’m just better at sorting through paperwork.”
“Don’t back away now, volchitsa. I like your teeth.”
What was happening? Was this absolutely terrifying man… flirting with her?
No, no, no, no, no.
That was not going to happen.
Tatyana met his terrifying grey eyes rimmed with lashes black as ink, and she kept her gaze fixed, trying to project stone-cold confidence. “I can find the money that Zara hid. I’m the one that did the transfers and I know how find my way through paperwork mazes. If you try to use a blunt instrument, you will get nowhere. You need a key, and I’m it.”
Sokolov finally broke their locked gaze and glanced down to the chair at Tatyana’s right side. “What’s to stop me from taking that bag with all your documents and your computer and getting rid of you tonight?”
“Oleg.” Elene’s voice was a sharp rebuke.
He looked at his financial officer and shrugged. “Maybe I don’t want to give her a percentage of thirty million dollars she didn’t earn.”
Tatyana nearly choked, but she tried not to lose her cool expression.
Thirty million? Dollars? US dollars?
Dear God, what had she gotten herself into?
This was a mistake. This was a horrible, horrible mistake. There was no way she could find thirty million dollars anywhere. There was no way she would be able to—
“Five percent,” Sokolov said.
“Fifteen,” she blurted.
No! What was she doing? She was negotiating for something she couldn’t do! Holy shit, she was going to die. She was absolutely writing a check that she had no way of cashing.
“Seven percent, and you’ll work from Elene’s office so she can supervise you. Don’t fool yourself that you can find thirty million without some help.”
“Thirteen percent. I can find my own help, and I’m not working from here. I have family obligations in Sevastopol.”
“Sevastopol is Zara’s old neighborhood and she probably still has people there watching you. Don’t underestimate how dangerous she can be. You’re safer here.” He leaned forward and held out a hand. “You can have ten percent, volchitsa, but I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”
Ten percent of thirty million dollars was three million dollars.
Three. Million. Dollars. US dollars.
It was enough for the rest of her life. Enough to keep her mother out of poverty. Enough to pay back every loan she’d ever taken and enough to say fuck you to her father forever.
Tatyana reached out her hand to the most dangerous man she’d ever met. “Ten percent, and my pay for the last six months of work for Zara. My mother needs it and it’s what I am owed.”
“Done.” His hand closed over hers and Tatyana felt a wave of something… wrong. Foreign, wrong, inhuman.
She looked into Sokolov’s eyes and there was a dark, swirling energy coming off of him that caught her breath. “What are you?”
He frowned, narrowed his eyes, then everything went black.