Page 16 of Brutal Monster
I extend my hand across the table. "Deal."
She takes it, her grip firm and dry. The contact lingers a moment longer than necessary, electricity arcing between our skin. When she withdraws, I find myself wanting to reach for her again - a dangerous impulse I immediately suppress.
"Tell me about the ruins," I say instead. "The ancient ones in the jungle."
As she speaks of temples and sacrifices, of stone carvings and bloody rituals, I watch the candlelight play across her features. The night deepens around us, and the wine flows while we exchange secrets. Each revelation is calculated and measured, yet somehow, in the space between words, something genuine emerges. Not trust–we're both too damaged for that–but understanding.
And for people like us, that might be enough.
CHAPTER SIX
INEZ
The Mexico City lights blur together as Vanya's sleek Bentley glides through the evening traffic. I press my forehead against the cool window glass, the tequila warming my blood and softening the edges of my usual vigilance.
"That's where my father took me for my fifteenth birthday," I say, pointing to a gleaming restaurant perched on a hillside. "Before I understood what our family really did."
Vanya's eyes flick to where I'm pointing, then back to the road. His hands remain perfectly positioned at ten and two on the steering wheel, control personified.
"And you? Did you always know what your family was?" I ask, feeling bold in my tipsy state.
His jaw tightens. "By four, I knew. By eight, I understood, and by twelve, I participated."
"Child soldiers," I murmur. "We both were, in different ways."
The city sprawls beneath us as we climb higher into the hills where the wealthy perch above the chaos. My building rises like a glass needle into the night sky.
"That one," I say, pointing. "Top floor."
His eyebrow arches slightly. "Of course it is."
The valet recognizes me instantly, scrambling to open my door before Vanya can circle the car. I wave him off. "My guest will park in my private space."
Vanya follows my directions to the underground garage, pulling into the spot marked with my name. The elevator requires my fingerprint, and as we ascend forty floors in silence, I find myself studying his reflection in the mirrored walls.
"Your security is adequate," he says, breaking the silence. "But I could suggest improvements."
I laugh. "Always working."
"Always alive," he counters.
The elevator opens directly across the hall from my door. I step out, fumbling slightly with my clutch to find my keys, though I don't strictly need them with the biometric lock.
"Allow me," Vanya says, taking the small purse from my hands. Our fingers brush, and electricity shoots up my arm.
He finds the keys and hands them to me. I turn to unlock the door, aware of his proximity behind me, the heat of him like a furnace in the air-conditioned hallway.
When I turn back, he's closer than I expected. My breath catches. His steel-gray eyes drop to my lips for just a heartbeat.
Then he steps back. "You should get some sleep, Inez."
"That's it?" The words escape before I can stop them.
"You've had several drinks. I don't take advantage of compromised business partners."
Business partners. The words sting more than they should.
"Is that what we are?" I step toward him, erasing the distance he created.
