Page 82 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

“Yeah, I just—” I approach the counter. “Could you call a car for me?”

“On Mr. Zhukova’s account?” she asks quietly, almost like it’s a secret.

I smile. “Yes. That would be great.”

If I’m going to leave the city, I may as well squeeze Nikolai for every dime I can.

* * *

Back at Zhukova Incorporated, it feels like I’m stumbling through the longest day in recorded history.

My feet ache from my supposedly sensible heels, and my stomach keeps growling. I never finished my dinner and I’m hungry. Maybe I’ll make use of the unlimited room service one more time before Elise and I get the hell out of Dodge.

I step into the lobby and turn towards the security desk, but the light is off and Stan isn’t sitting there.

“Fine with me,” I mutter. I don’t mind letting myself up.

But when I walk to the elevator and press the button, nothing happens. It doesn’t even look like the elevator is working. What the—

“You need permission to use the lobby elevator this late,” a voice behind me says.

I turn and see a middle-aged man leaning against a broom. A pile of dust and small trash is gathered at his feet.

“Stan isn’t at his desk,” I explain. “But I need to get upstairs and—”

“Call someone from your company to let you up.”

I give him a patient smile. “No one else is up there.”

“That makes sense. It’s late,” he deadpans. His eyes are bloodshot. It looks like it’s pretty late for him, too.

“I know. I forgot my laptop, so I really need to get up there and—”

“Stan left for the night,” he interrupts. “Access is closed unless someone can let you up.”

“There’s no one.”

He shrugs. “Too bad.” He could not sound less sympathetic if he tried.

“How do you get around?” I ask. “You have to clean all the other floors, right?”

He pats his hip with a wrinkled, calloused hand. “Keys. I take the stairs.”

“Where are the stairs? I’ll take—”

“You need the keys.”

I stare at him for a few seconds, blinking slowly. “Which you have.”

“I do.”

“So… you could unlock the door for me?”

He shakes his head again. “I’m not authorized to let anyone into the building. The only reason you got through the front door is because I forgot to lock it after my smoke break. I could get in trouble by you just being in here.”

I huff out a small sigh. “Listen, sir, I—”

“Sir?” He guffaws. “That’s nice.”

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