Page 90 of Choosing Stella

Stella’s fingers tightened slightly against my arm.

Volkov looked to be in his forties, fit without being bulky, his suit cut cleanly enough that he could’ve passed for senior management even without the credential. His expression stayed composed as he turned to me.

“And Mr. DiNero, I assume.”

“That’s right.”

Volkov extended his hand.

I shook it once. His grip was firm and ordinary.

“I’m Mikhail Volkov. We spoke by phone, Ms. Moon.”

“I remember.”

“I was surprised when I heard you were attending tonight.”

Stella lifted her cocktail.

“I had plans.”

His gaze touched the glass, then returned to her face.

“I hope the event is at least providing a distraction.”

“Your bartenders are doing their best.”

“I’m glad.”

Nothing in his tone told me whether my suspicion belonged anywhere near the truth.

Volkov faced me again.

“We’ve increased security since Mr. Bellacorte’s death.”

“I noticed.”

“You’re welcome to speak with me if you need anything while you’re here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

His attention shifted briefly across the ballroom.

“We’re dealing with an unusual situation. I’d rather avoid another incident.”

“So would I.”

Stella kept her hand on my arm.

Volkov addressed her again.

“I meant what I said on the phone. If you need assistance, you only have to ask.”

“I already have assistance.”

His expression barely changed.

“Yes. I can see that.”