Page 17 of Essence of Fear

She didn’t want to think about it.

“Viktoria, here,” she said, answering her phone as she sat the bottle of Grey Goose on the counter for the cashier.

“Sestra.”

She scowled at Konstantin’s greeting. “What do you want, Konstantin?”

“You’ve been to your therapist?”

“How do you know that?”

“Your attitude.”

“Oh, not because you have me followed?”

“Well, that is for protection, and you never see the person, do you?”

Viktoria’s face felt like it was going to permanently stay in some form of a scowl or frown for the rest of her life if she didn’t get this shit under control. She also wasn’t stupid enough to miss the fact that Konstantin purposely refrained from saying he when it came to the solider for the Boykovs who occasionally kept an eye on her. He’d made the mistake of telling her it was a man once, and that hadn’t ended well when she’d realized a strange male followed her around pretty regularly. He tried not to make the same mistake a second time.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Nineteen dollars, twenty-three cents,” the girl behind the cash said.

Konstantin, on the phone, said calmly, “Have you picked out a gift for Kolya and Maya’s baby shower yet?”

“Have you made that Italian wife of yours any more Russian?”

“There’s no need to be purposefully hurtful.”

“That depends on who you ask.”

Konstantin grunted under his breath. “You really do make it a chore to be pleasant, Vik.”

And …?

“Did you just call me to remind me of the party?” Viktoria asked. “Because I will be there, and with a gift, brat.”

“And with a kind attitude, hmm?”

“I’ll try.”

Konstantin sighed. “Best I can ask, I suppose. And no, that isn’t why I called. It was just something I remembered when you picked up the phone.”

Oh, good.

Something else …

“I have a job for you to do,” Konstantin said, “at the Compound.”

Viktoria’s brow dipped. “I rarely go there … and what kind of job?”

“The only thing we ever ask you to do for the Bratva.”

Ah, yeah.

“A tattoo, then,” she muttered.

“Stars, actually.”