Page 18 of Hunted By the Masked BRATVA
She searches my eyes for a long moment. Then: "Yes."
"Good. Get dressed. We'll go see Maksim, give him the story, and get back to work."
Twenty minutes later, we're walking through the hotel toward Maksim's private office. Emilia is wearing one of my shirts, and her hand is clasped firmly in mine.
To anyone watching, we look like exactly what we're pretending to be: a hunter and his willing prize.
Maksim's office is all dark wood and expensive artwork. The man himself sits behind a massive desk, his mask from last night is gone and in it’s place is the flat look I’ve come to know all thesemen to wear. They’ve seen everything, survived more. Nikolai Vasiliev sits in the corner looking bored.
"Konstantin." He stands, comes around the desk. "And this must be number four."
"Emilia," I say, keeping my voice casual. "Emilia Markova."
I watch Maksim’s face carefully. If he recognizes the Markov name, he doesn't show it.
"A pleasure." He gestures to the chairs across from his desk. "Please, sit."
We do. I keep my hand on Emilia's knee, a possessive gesture that signals exactly what I want Maksim to think.
"I'll be direct," Maksim says. "Last night, someone attempted to poison Artur Troskoy. The woman wearing number four was seen with the spiked champagne glass just before it shattered. I'd like to understand what happened."
Emilia's leg tenses under my hand. I squeeze gently.
"It was an accident," she says, and her voice is steady. Calm. "I was carrying champagne. Someone bumped into me—" She glances at me. "—and I dropped the glass. It shattered."
"Konstantin says he knocked the glass from your hand."
"Because I was heading to Troskoy to give him a piece of my mind." She doesn't miss a beat. "The glass wasn't meant for him. It was mine. But Konstantin didn't know that, and when he saw me near Troskoy, I suppose he assumed..."
"He assumed you were trying to poison someone." Maksim’s eyes are sharp and assessing. "Why would he assume that?"
"Because I told him I hated the man." She says it with perfect honesty. "My family had business with Troskoy years ago. It ended badly. When I saw him at the masquerade, I was angry. I may have said things I shouldn't have had I been afforded the opportunity."
It's brilliant. Close enough to the truth to be believable, vague enough not to incriminate herself.
Maksim studies her for a long moment. Then his gaze shifts to me.
"And you believed her enough to let her participate in The Hunt?"
"I believed her enough to keep an eye on her." I shrug. "If she'd actually tried something, I would have stopped her."
"But she didn't."
"She grabbed a mask and ran into the forest. I followed. Caught her. Brought her back." I let my smile turn wolfish. "Everything else is between us."
Maksim is quiet, weighing our story.
Finally, he leans back in his chair. "Very well."
Relief floods through me, carefully hidden.
"However," Maksim continues, "I'd appreciate it if you kept Ms. Markova close for the next few days. Just until we're certain there are no other threats to our guests."
"Of course." I stand, pulling Emilia with me. "Anything else?"
"Just one thing." Maksim's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "The glass was tested this morning. There were traces of ricin in the champagne residue."
Fuck me.
