Page 122 of Sinister Promise

CHAPTER 29

ALINA

"Seems about right," I sighed as I gazed out the penthouse window.

I knew he was going to go a little overboard, but this seemed extreme, even for Pavel.

Below, the street was swarming with an armored motorcade, a small army of scary-looking men in full SWAT gear standing guard.

In the center was a massive black Range Rover that looked more like a tank than a car meant to drive on city streets.

I'd even bet the Range Rover was bulletproof.

With a resigned sigh, I considered my options.

I knew Pavel didn't play around, but when I agreed to have a guard with me, I was thinking I would have one, maybe two armed men with me.

Ones who worked with or for Pavel, but clearly in his mind that wasn't enough.

Since the hotel was in Washington DC, where the rich and powerful—politicians, dignitaries, internationalleaders—stayed, the presence of an elite security team wouldn't raise any eyebrows.

For most of the people here, the interruptions of security slowing down traffic was just another inconvenience on any given Tuesday.

I swore more people took the Metro not because they liked public transit or hated finding a parking spot, but solely so they could avoid the inconvenient bullshit of security motorcades.

There might have been a few people slowing down trying to get a peek at who they could be guarding, wanting to get a photo of some celebrity if they were lucky, or a politician and their side piece they could sell to a tabloid if they were really lucky.

No one would realize the real reason they were there was to take me to a gallery owned by my husband's family.

But that was because no one knew the truth about this city and who really ran a lot of it.

The Russian mafia owned this entire building.

After overhearing a few of Pavel’s conversations, I was pretty sure they owned most of the block, and half a dozen buildings throughout the city, and even more in industrial areas in Virginia and Maryland.

There was a part of me that wondered if they also used it to get blackmail on the politicians and businessmen who stayed here.

If not, it seemed like a wasted opportunity.

Though considering Pavel didn't waste the opportunity to put me in the care of a small army, I'd bet very few opportunities passed by the Ivanov men.

I knew the Russian mob was connected, but the elite security force outside was overkill.

It would have been overkill if it was for the president.

Royalty traveled to third world countries with fewer guns.

I was just going down the street.

And they were there just for little, unimportant, unassuming me.

I didn't know if I should've felt claustrophobic, embarrassed, or oddly touched.

He must've spent a fortune on this, all to keep me safe.

Or to keep me under lock and key, I wasn't sure which.

No wonder Pavel had said he needed a week to arrange for a guard.

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