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I scrambled to my feet, dropping the controller on the bean bag. My heart thumped wildly as I followed Mrs. Starling down the hall to the foyer. As soon as I rounded the corner and spied the broad shoulders, swathed in a tailored navy suit, I felt sick.
It wasn’t Sasha.
It was Misha.
“Thank you,” Misha said, turning with a smile for Mrs. Starling. His bright blue eyes shifted to me, the smile remaining in place even though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Roan.”
“What are you doing here? How did you even know—”
He held up a hand. “Get your shoes. We’re going to take a ride.”
I folded my arms over my chest. Were all Russians this fucking bossy? “No way in hell. Not until you tell me why you’re here.”
He took a step closer, steepling his fingers in front of him. “It wasn’t a request.”
I held my ground, even if he could crush me as easily as Sasha. “I don’t give a shit. Why are you here, Misha? Where’s Sasha?”
“We need to talk.”
“Great. Talk right here.”
“I’d prefer to do it somewhere a little more…” He sucked a breath in through his teeth, glancing around at the glittering mansion. “Private.”
“Where is Sasha?” I demanded, enunciating each word.
Misha’s eyes tightened. “That’s what I’m here to talk about.”
A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. “What about him? What happened?”
He strolled forward, one hand in his pocket while the other brushed his nose casually. He stopped in front of me, right in my personal space, his gaze locked on mine. “If you want what’s best for Sasha, get in the fucking car. Now.”
I swallowed down my fear and nodded. Without saying a word to anyone, I grabbed my shoes and followed him outside to a waiting SUV. The driver opened the door for me and I climbed in carefully, mindful of my various injuries. Even though I could move around a lot easier now, I was nowhere near fully healed.
Misha sat next to me in the back. As soon as everyone was situated, he gave the word to leave.
“Where are we going?” I asked when it was obvious we were headed for the city.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Is Sasha there?”
Misha slid a look at me that brought an immediate halt to my questions. Another thing he and Sasha apparently had in common.
I stayed silent for the rest of the ride, watching the buildings fly by, trying to keep track of where we were. When the SUV rolled to a stop and parked, I swallowed the lump in my throat.
We were at Delirium — the club I’d tracked Sasha down at and the place he told me never to return to.
The car door opened and I stumbled out. There was a line of people around the block, waiting to get in, but Misha walked past them all. The bouncer didn’t even hesitate to push the door open for us.
Loud techno beats and flashing green and white lights bombarded us as soon as we were inside. Misha cut through the crowd with ease, like people knew to part for him and look away, in fear or deference.
My head was thumping by the time we made it into the kitchen. Then, my heart took over, beating wildly in my chest. I’d seen enough mob movies to know this was never a good sign.
“I think there’s been a mistake,” I said, looking for the fastest exit possible.
“No, no mistake,” Misha said in front of me, not even slowing his pace. He pushed open another door, leading me into a room with thick insulation covering the walls. Soundproofing.
I turned around immediately, but the driver was behind me. He shoved me backward and Misha grabbed me from behind, one hand on the back of my neck and the other on my bicep.
