Page 19 of Deceptive Vows
“Right,” he said, his accent slightly thicker as his eyes locked with mine. “We wouldn’t want to put our plan in jeopardy.”
“No.” I cleared my throat. “Of course not.”
The rest of the drive passed in silence. Not exactly tense but certainly not as lighthearted as before my lapse in judgment.
The limo glided to a smooth stop at the entrance of the high-rise. The driver opened the door, and Nazar moved first. Chicago’s evening air wrapped around us as he stepped out and then offered his hand. I took it, ignoring the lingering warmth from his touch.
The lobby gleamed with marble floors and brushed steel accents, all understated elegance. We stepped into the elevator, and fifty floors slipped by in silence. Notawkward, just… taut. The memory of that kiss hovered between us, unspoken but very much alive.
The elevator dinged. Luminous stretched before us, the city’s skyline a glittering backdrop through floor-to-ceiling windows. As expected, politicians, socialites, and business moguls filled the space, each table a potential source of gossip.
The maître d’ approached. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Mr. Volkov,” Nazar replied, his hand settling at the small of my back.
“Ah, right this way.”
We followed him through the restaurant. I could feel eyes tracking our movement. Marco would know about this outing before we even ordered appetizers.
The table was positioned perfectly—near the windows, offering a view of the city’s night skyline, yet close enough to the center of the room that we would be noticed.
Nazar held my chair out and then took his seat across from me. His eyes never left mine as he settled in—all part of the show, of course. I reminded myself that was all this was. A show.
So why did it feel like something more?
Our drinks were the only choices we’d gettonight. This restaurant served a menu set by the chef with each night changing depending on the ingredients sourced that day.
Sitting back, I watched Nazar for a moment. Unusual for me. Men were tools to be wielded, not studied or understood. Yet, I found myself interested in anything I could learn about him. “Do you mind if I ask questions?”
“Depends.” His eyes caught the light as he looked up from his water.
“On?” I smiled.
“May I ask questions in return?”
“Depends.” I teased, mirroring his response.
His deep laugh tickled my ears. “All right. What’s the first question?”
“How long have you known Pasha?”
“Since I was a child. My father was his father’s vor. My family has served his family for generations.”
My eyebrows rose. “That’s quite the history.” I knew enough about Russian criminal hierarchies to understand the significance. “Are you friends because you like him, or is it merely duty?”
He wiped his hand down his beard. “I consider him to be my best friend. We share common goals and values.He’s a good man. An even better leader than his father. He’s tough but fair.”
The waiter returned with our drinks, and I waited until he was out of earshot.
“I can appreciate that.”
Nazar fell silent for a moment, his gaze more assessing now. “Do you typically use knives in battle?”
A chuckle popped out. “I have a talent for them.”
He nodded. “Yes, that was obvious. Do you also bring them to gunfights?”
“I bring them to everything. A girl can never be too prepared.” I winked.
