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“What kind of training are we talking about?”
“Hand to hand combat, firearms, psychological manipulation, cracking computer encryption.”
I snort. These mafia guys are truly out of their minds if they think they can turn me into a super-spy. I love art and theater and baking. I won’t kill a spider for chrissake, forget handling a gun. But what’s the point of arguing further? I don’t plan on sticking around long enough to actually see this plan through. And some bad-ass spy training can only help me break out of here.
I lean forward and take a slow sip from my glass of water, as if I’m considering what they’re saying.
“He'll want more than just information,” I shrug. “You’re aware that Oleg’s a vile pig, right?”
Andrei's mouth twists in distaste. “His weakness is alcohol. Get him drunk enough to loosen his lips. When he wants more from you, slip Rohypnol into his drink. His guards won’t think anything of it. Most nights he passes out on the bottle.”
“So let me get this straight,” I say, holding up a finger. “You want me to slip him a date rape drug?”
A hint of a smile pulls at the edges of Andrei’s mouth. I’m glad he can at least see the humor in what he’s saying. “Yes. You’ll flirt with him. Let him think that you’re willing to bed him. But the moment he expects more, you slip him a roofie.”
“We don’t expect you to fuck him,” Daniil adds, with a teasing lilt. “Unless you want to.”
I make a gagging sound just as Andrei throws his brother a look that could peel paint. His hands clench to fists on the table, and for a moment I think he’s going to deck his brother.
Daniil holds up his hands in defense. “I was kidding. She knows I’m kidding, right?”
A muscle tics in Andrei’s jaw, and I wonder if this is how the brothers normally act or if there is something more. Daniil doesn't seem bothered by the interaction, and Yulian and Leo are already distracted by their phones.
Andrei rises from his seat. “Your training starts today. I’ll walk you back to your suite to prepare.”
Under his breath, I hear Daniil mutter, “Well, this just got interesting.”
Andrei pushes by him and comes to stand beside me. As I rise, his firm hand lands on my lower back, guiding me towards the door.
I don’t bother looking back or saying goodbye. My entire focus is on the place where Andrei’s hand meets my body. His touch burning with heat, a live wire between us.
Good god. What have I got myself into?
Chapter10
ANDREI
Her footsteps echo behind me as I lead her through the hallway towards her room. I can’t look at her in that fuckingwhitedress for another minute. All long legs and rounded hips, with waves of dark hair spilling over her shoulders. She’s temptation wrapped into one perfect package and nothing good can come out of my desire for her.
“Natalia has your training itinerary,” I say, as I forge ahead of her. “She’ll make sure you get where you need to go. Listen to her.”
“Uh-huh.” Georgia sounds distracted. I turn around to see what’s caught her attention. Her eyes are glued to a painting on the wall, as if the world’s secrets are held in its brushstrokes. “This painting. Is this a Kazimir Malevich?”
I nod. “It’s calledMorning in the Village after Snowstorm.”
“It’s amazing to see up close,” she says, taking it in with the reverence of a church parishioner. “You must have had a top-notch curator.”
I can’t help but move towards her. My curiosity piqued. “Why do you say that?”
She shifts her attention to the painting beside the Kazimir. It’s Picasso’sNature Morte.
“Your collection is…” she shakes her head, “impressive.”
Most people say shit like that just to sound cultured, but they don’t give a shit about the art. With Georgia, I can tell she means it.
“I’m glad you think so.”
“God, I sound pretentious.” She cringes. “I’m no expert, but art is my passion. I hoped to study it, but…” Her words die in her throat.
