Page 101 of Stolen Empire
Fear.
Men like Dimitri Vetrov don't get afraid.
They may have concerns, but their faces are always a mask of serious concentration or anger.
It rattles me a little, but I keep my face calm.
"I'll be fine," I tell him.
He nods, but he doesn't look convinced.
"Katya…" he says, but I'm already on my way to the door.
"Hmm?" I turn to look at him, still draped in a towel, water beading on his chest.
Fuck, he's incredibly sexy and I feel so conflicted every time I look at him.
He's fire and ice and I'm a woman drunk on his sex.
I'd do anything for the way he makes me feel, even take stupid risks like the one I'm about to make.
"Be careful. I'll be right behind you."
"Yeah," I say, forcing a smile.
Then I head out to hail a cab.
The warehouse is on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by a chain-link fence and empty lots.
I arrive way too early, walking the perimeter to get a feel for what I'm walking into.
Two men stand near the entrance, smoking.
They watch me approach but don't move.
I pass them and circle around a few more times before I decide it's just time to bite the bullet.
"I'm here to see Daniil," I say, approaching them directly instead of beating around the bush anymore.
One of them jerks his head toward the door.
"Inside."
I push through the rusted metal door into a cavernous space.
The ceiling is high, lined with broken skylights that let in shafts of dusty light.
Crates are stacked along the walls.
In the center of the floor, Daniil stands with three other men.
He smiles when he sees me.
"You came."
"You said better pay? I'm interested."
I slide my hands into my jeans pockets and try to act casual as I study their faces.
