Page 107
“I just alerted my security detail. They won’t be long.”
“How do you live with these photographers constantly chasing at your heels? Are they always this intrusive?”
“Here, in the United States, it’s a jungle. These guys practically have free rein. And since my supposed breakup with May, it’s worse than ever. They’re dying to know who my next… conquest… will be.” Those last words are accompanied by his most devilish smirk.
“Vadim?”
“Alma,” he answers with a sigh.
“What happened last night?”
“I drank too much. I was in a bad place. I’ve already apologized, but I’ll say sorry again if I have to.”
“No, it’s just that I’d like to understand. I’ve never seen you get into a state like that before.”
“Because it never happens.”
“Is it because of… Dimitri Monkov?”
Vadim fixes me with his steely gaze but doesn’t say a word. When finally he parts his lips, about to speak, his phone suddenly starts vibrating on the table. He grabs it and answers.
“My men are here. Let’s go. Back door.”
43
Alma
Through the tinted windows of the car, we see the majestic gates swing open, and our vehicle glides over the crunching gravel toward the house. Here, there are no paparazzi to worry about, no unauthorized photos, no car chases, no crowds surging around us. Comfort and luxury combined with absolute tranquility.
As usual, Abigail greets us with a smile. But it seems forced. Behind her, Maximilian leans against the wall, a strange gleam in his eye. Sly. Almost defiant.
“Hello, Mr. Arcadi,” he suddenly calls out, cool as a cucumber.
Arcadi.
My heart skips a beat. A few steps away from me, Vadim falters for a second, then straightens his back. He seems to grow larger, as though preparing for a confrontation.
“Finn, I take it there is something you want from me?” Vadim inquires, his voice hard.
“Wouldn’t you like to know how I found out the truth?” his personal assistant says, clearly enjoying himself.
“Of course, since you’re dying to tell me…”
“You thought you were hiring an all-purpose housekeeper and an underling to have at your beck and call? Well, you were wrong,” spits Abby.
“Guess what? We’re married,” Max declares.
“And we planned this all along,” his wife continues.
They play off each other perfectly, apparently very proud of the little show they’re putting on for us. My stomach knots, and I brace myself for the worst.
“What do you want?” Vadim growls. “Money, I imagine? People like you aren’t interested in anything else.”
“I’d watch your tone if I were you,” Abigail warns him. “You might regret it.”
“You really shouldn’t leave all those fascinating files lying around,” Max whispers, clearly intent on riling him up.
“So, you’ve mastered the art of picking a lock and opening a safe. You failed to mention that on your résumé. I’m impressed.”
