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The red hair and blue eyes suddenly struck an uncanny resemblance to another Gallagher I knew—the very one Egor had attempted to murder, dragging us into this twisted mess.
Ronan.
If my guesses were right, Rosalyn was Ronan’s sister. The heir apparent to be crowned in the Irish mafia. And her presence in Moscow must have been strategically tied to the event. For all we knew, she could have been here to spy on Egor.
The effects of the alcohol kicked in, and there was a pressing need to use the bathroom.
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to excuse me for a minute. I think I have to use the ladies’ room.”
“Sure.” She smiled and turned around to strike up a conversation with the eager bartender, and the second I spun around with my back to her, the smile slipped from my face.
What were the odds?
Chapter 13 – Egor
“You’re late.”
Grandpa apprehended Nikolai, who strolled into the private section with a smug grin and a blonde arm candy. Separating women from Niko was close to impossible. Many had tried, including Kir himself, but no one had succeeded. I doubted anyone could.
He whispered to the woman and let her go before coming up to us, looking far from apologetic. He smoothened a crinkle on his jacket and started to work his charm. Our old man grunted when Niko played the classic I-forgot-to-set-my-alarm card, and I suppressed a grin. We were all weary of his tactics.
Kir and his band of older men began drilling Niko about his operations in LA. I joined in on the conversation but only made it halfway after I realized Freya no longer stood by the bar.
The men’s heavy voices quickly faded into the quiet noise when I craned my neck and scanned the room alertly. Had she tried to leave? That wouldn’t have been possible because Anatoly and my men stood guard around the premises. One of them would have spotted her if she’d tried.
Where else could she have gone?
As I considered going around the room to search for her, I caught the glimmer of her silver dress and long brown hair swishing below her waist. Her head angled left and right, undoubtedly in search of me, like a lost puppy.
How endearing.
“I’ll be back.”
Niko’s eyes followed me but soon lost contact as I walked away from the group and ambled closer to her.
She was looking toward the stage when I came up behind her. I wound an arm around her waist, drawing her close, andshe flinched. I found her little display funny and pressed a smile at the back of her neck. Her scent tickled and ran straight into my bloodstream.
I pressed a kiss on her earlobe, and her body molded into mine. “My love.” My growl drew a gasp from her. “Where the fuck did you go without telling me?”
She turned her face to mine, and my eyes dropped to the fullness of her red-painted lips when she spoke. “The bathroom. Didn’t know I needed permission to pee, my love.”
I backed away from her with a proud grin. One day, I was going to teach that smart mouth of hers a lesson.
After an hour of private talk with the men in an inner room Kir had reserved strictly for us and fighting off Niko’s pestering to meet “the girl,” I took Freya home.
Anatoly turned off the engine and crushed a glowing cigar butt on the ground before leaving us. I looked from him and back to her unmoving feet.
“Your little act back there was quite the performance.”
“Well, I’m glad you liked it. Maybe next time you could, I don’t know, give me a heads up before shoving me in your grandfather’s face as your girlfriend-slash-future fiancée?”
“You would not have agreed to do it.”
Freya ran her fingers through her hair, and the strain on her face was clear. She was fighting an internal battle, struggling within herself not to blow up on me like she desperately wanted to. Her chest heaved, and she let out a deep exhale, her eyes flashing and her fingers curling.
“Bummer. I wonder why I wouldn’t accept to be a part of such a stupid plan.”
I made a gesture with my shoulders, showing her how ineffective her words were on me. “Call it what you want. It worked.”
