Page 4 of Stolen Empire
"Sit," he says, nodding toward the chair.
"I would rather stand."
"I don't care what you would rather do."
His voice doesn't rise, but the threat in it is clear.
"Sit down."
I hesitate, weighing my options, and then I move to the chair and lower myself into it.
The wood creaks under my weight, and I keep my hands visible, resting them on my knees.
He stays by the door, blocking the only way out.
"Who are you?" I ask, because I need to know who I'm dealing with.
"Dimitri Vetrov."
He says the name as if it should mean something to me, and when I don't react, his mouth tightens.
"This is my family's track, our horses, our operation. And you just tried to steal from me."
I don't answer.
There's no point in denying it, and I'm not about to apologize.
"Who sent you?" he asks again, and this time his tone is harder.
"Nobody."
"You're lying."
"I'm not," I hiss, letting my anger show.
He pushes off the doorframe and crosses the room in three strides.
I lean back in the chair, cowering, but there's nowhere to go.
He plants his hands on the armrests, caging me in, and his face is inches from mine.
I can smell the faint trace of tobacco on his breath, see the scar that cuts through his left eyebrow.
"Listen to me," he says, and his voice drops to a near whisper.
"I have been watching this place for weeks. Things aren't going how they're supposed to be, and then you show up, dressed in black, cutting the fence, and walking straight to the one horse that would hurt me most if she disappeared. So you're going to tell me who you're working for, or I'm going to make sure you never walk out of this room."
I hold his gaze, refusing to flinch, but inside, my guts are roiling.
He's easily twice my size, and though under other circumstances I'd find him attractive, right now, I feel terrified.
"I'm not working for anyone. I saw an opportunity and I took it. That's all."
He studies me for a long moment, his eyes searching my face for any sign of a lie.
Then he straightens up and steps back, running a hand over his scalp.
"You're either the dumbest thief I have ever met or you are very good at pretending."
