Page 39 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

Not when we’re both playing for keeps.

Chapter 12

Exactly Where I Want to Be

Galina

Detective Rong corners me in the dressing room after the last dancer has slipped out, leaving behind the scent of perfume and sweat and whatever fantasy she was selling. I feel her presence before I see her. The kind of woman who doesn’t knock. She waits until the silence settles and then walks through it.

She leans against the makeup counter as if we are old friends.

“Miss Olenko,” she says. “Got a minute?”

I don’t flinch. Instead, I gather stray dresses from the counter, folding them with care. I give her my back and my best blank face. “If you’re looking for answers, I can try to help. But it’s late.” My tone is polite. Dismissive. A performance I know by heart.

She doesn’t move, but I can feel her eyes on me, peeling back the layers I’ve spent years perfecting.

I keep folding.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, keeping my voice even.

“That depends,” she says, studying me in the mirror. “Are you here of your own volition?”

The question punches the air out of the room. It shouldn’t surprise me, and yet, it does. I almost drop the satin in my hands.

I spin slowly, giving her a look of confusion. “Do you think someone dragged me back here in chains?”

Rong shrugs, unbothered. “No. I think someone ended that conversation upstairs a little too quickly. And I think you’re smart enough to know what that means.”

She’s fishing. She thinks I’m the key to her puzzle.

“How long have you been working here?” she asks.

“I’m not sure I understand the question.” I set the dress down and meet her eyes. There’s steel behind mine now. Let her see it. Let her misread it as fear.

“Volkov brought you in because of your experience?” she presses.

“Yes.”

“And not because of your family name?”

My pulse stutters, but my expression doesn’t waver. “My family’s legacy has nothing to do with my employment.”

“Of course,” she murmurs, stepping just a little closer. “Including what happened to your brothers?”

That hits its mark. Pain blooms, sharp and involuntary. I let it show. It makes the performance easier.

“None of that was Vasiliy’s doing,” I say, softly but firmly.

“And how do you feel about that?” Rong’s voice is prying.

I lift my chin. “That’s not your business.”

“Fair,” she says. “But I can’t help wondering…is this where you wanted to end up, Galina?”

She uses my name like a tether. Like she’s trying to pull me in.

“I’m exactly where I choose to be, Detective,” I reply, smoothing my dress with trembling fingers I pray she doesn’t notice.

---