Page 120 of Devotion

We discussed what might happen, what we might bargain with to get out of this mess. Most of that was speculation. There’s no way to know until we meet this Adil Abas what he has planned for us.

The palace once again stretches on forever, taking a solid fifteen minutes to reach our destination: one of the many dining halls. This one is unique with an entirely glass ceiling.

I’ll admit, this guy has style.

“Make yourselves comfortable while you wait for his excellency.” Ahmed opens his palm to some plush chairs in a sort of antechamber to the main area the table sits in. Probably rude to go to the dinner table without our host.

But I’m starving again.

“Your stomach is making a scene,” Vanya whispers.

Another growl echoes through the hall. “He’s had a taste of the good life. I’m staying here, I thought I’d let you know.”

“I am sure Mr. Abas has the space.”

I’m about to make another comment when soft footsteps draw our attention to the main entrance.

“Miss Sokolov, Mr. Diamante. Welcome to my home.”

The man is dressed in a long coat over loose pants. Both look elegantly cut to fit him, but simple in color and style. With a tilt of his head, he strides confidently into the dining hall. Shrugging, I move to follow.

“Please, sit and be well. You are my guests.” His voice is deep, melodic. A real speaker’s voice. And on a man unusually tall for the region, it adds even more clout. Adil must be in his sixties, but he’s fit. Lean, but broad shouldered and light on his feet.

Vanya takes his left hand, signaling with her eyes that I should take the right. She’d know better in this case. The move seems to please our host.

I’m a second from opening my mouth to make a snarky comment about misogyny when food arrives, a plate for each of us. Apparently, this will not be a spread, but a served meal.

The plates are generous, but not overloaded. Another statement, a detail about Adil that I add to the profile in my head. He is practical in some ways. Not overeating, fit. Indulgent in some ways, but not a glutton. So he likely came from more humble roots.

“Do not wait on my account, begin.” He smiles, a tight, diplomatic expression.

At this invitation, I pause.

With a pleasant smile, I nod my head toward Adil, “Not before our host.”

“Ah. It is a pleasure to host such well-mannered guests.Sahtain,” he intones, taking a bite.

“Ala-albeck,” Vanya responds, and I mimic the phrase. A tiny thrill of shock zips up my spine. She’s as versatile as I am, and constantly surprising me with her knowledge.

“Our accommodations, for at least part of our stay, have been impressive,” I offer, diving into my meal.

“An unfortunate necessity, the first half of your visit. A simple misunderstanding.”

“Unfortunate. Right. Misunderstanding? On whose part?”

“Yours. As you are aware by now, I am sure, you came here in err. Searching for a man whose whereabouts I would also be very interested to ascertain.”

Vanya pauses, her eyes narrowing slightly. “So you do not have my uncle.”

“I always enjoyed dealing with you Bratva. Straight to the point. No. I do not have him.”

“So why keep us alive at all?” I follow suit, getting to the real questions I have.

“I wasconvincedby one of my assets to forgo your execution. Odd too, given his propensity for killing. One of the reasons I procured him.”

“The guy in the mask?”

“One of a select few. They are the fingers on my hand, stretched out where I would not reach.”

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