Page 56 of Phantom Flower

“Uh… yeah,” he said. “That’s me.”

The girl smiled wider. “I’m Lena. You wanna dance? The song’s pretty good.”

Marco looked at me again, asking for permission. Like he felt guilty even considering leaving me alone when he was the one who invited me. I smiled and nodded once, giving him a little push on the shoulder.

“Go,” I said. “She seems nice. Have fun.”

He hesitated for another second, pressing his lips together, clearly reluctant. Then he turned back to the girl and nodded. She took his hand and led him toward the makeshift dance floor in the living room. I watched them go, a smile pulling at my mouth. Marco deserved this. He was always so worried about everyone else that he never let himself have fun.

I sat down on one of the stools near the drinks table and finished what was left in my cup. A guy handling the drinks, probably one of Marco’s friend’s roommates, leaned over the table and offered me another cup.

“Refill?” he asked with a grin. “You look like you could use it.”

I took it without thinking much about it. “Thanks.”

I sipped the new drink slowly while I waited for Marco to come back. It tasted almost the same as the first one. Sweet. I finished it without realizing how fast I was going.

A few minutes later Marco reappeared, cheeks flushed and curls even messier than before. The girl was still with him, but she was talking to someone else a few feet away now, clearly hoping he would come back soon.

I looked at her, then back at Marco. “She seems to want more time with you. Why don’t you go?”

He pressed his lips together, clearly torn. “I don’t know… I invited you. I don’t want to just leave you sitting here by yourself.”

“I’m fine,” I said, meaning it. “Really. Go. Have fun. I’ll have another drink or two and probably head home soon anyway. You don’t have to babysit me.”

He still looked reluctant, but after another glance at the girl he finally nodded. “Okay. But text me when you get home, alright?”

“I will. Go.”

He gave me one last worried look, then turned and jogged back to the girl. She lit up when she saw him coming back. I watched them disappear into the crowd together.

I finished the second drink and set the empty cup on the table. My head felt a little heavy, but I figured it was just the noise and the fact that I had not eaten much today. I really wanted to go home then. The thought of crawling into bed and texting Dimitri until I fell asleep sounded perfect.

I stood up from the stool.

My vision blurred at the edges and the floor seemed to shift under my feet. I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself. I had only had two drinks. Two. I could not possibly be drunk already. I was not even tipsy when I finished the second one.

But something was wrong.

My legs felt unsteady as I slowly made my way toward the bathroom down the hall. The music sounded muffled then, like it was coming from underwater. People brushed past me and I had to focus hard just to keep walking straight. My stomach twisted uncomfortably.

I pushed open the bathroom door and locked it behind me, leaning against the sink. The fluorescent light was too bright. I turned the cold water on and splashed some on my face, trying to clear my head.

What the hell was happening?

I stared at my reflection. My eyes looked glassy. The blue flower clip in my hair, the one I had chosen that morning because Dimitri had sent me a picture of himself smiling with a clear blue sky behind him, made me feel strangely calm. But then my eyes were growing heavy.

Something was very wrong.

Chapter 17

Dimitri Morozov

The last week had been a goddamn nightmare. The Italian mafia had been pushing hard, sending intruders everywhere.

Tonight was supposed to be the last loose end. Enzo. Some Italian prick we had caught trying to move their shit through one of our old warehouses on the edge of the river. He had been working with a couple of their guys who had already been dealt with earlier in the week. We grabbed him outside a bar two hours ago. Now he was strapped to a metal chair in the middle of an abandoned warehouse.

Ilya was having the time of his life.