“You can be honest, Daniela. I was asking because I really want to know,” he said.
I looked into his eyes, saw what I thought was truth there. “You do look really nice,” I said. “It’s nice,” I said, nodding toward the blue-striped tie.
“But?” At the sound of his deep voice I looked up into his eyes again, searching for some hint of anger, some confirmation as to whether I should express what I thought.
All I saw was patience, and it gave me the confidence to continue.
“But…” I trailed off, considering my words as I stared at the blue-striped tie.
I looked up at his eyes again. “You should lose the tie.”
He lifted his brows. “Lose the tie?” he said.
I nodded. “It doesn’t fit.”
“I look like a kid playing dress up?”
I smiled. “I would never say that, but yeah.”
He nodded. “I thought so too.”
As he spoke he reached up, unknotted the tie, and slid it off, the swish of silk against linen filling my ears, immediately conjuring the image of Sergei taking off more.
“Better?” he asked.
I looked up at him, my gaze centered on his strong throat and before I could suppress the instinct, I reached up and popped open the first two buttons of his shirt.
“Better,” I finally said, meeting his eye.
The moment passed between us, suddenly rich, heavy, so intense, I forgot who he was, who I was, and instead lost myself in the reflection of his eyes.
“Thanks,” he said a moment later, bringing me back to the present. “You’ll be here tonight?”
The promise in his words set off a beat of desire that thrummed through my blood. I nodded.
“Good,” he said.
Then he turned his back to me and walked out of the kitchen.
Eleven
Sergei
She’d been right about the tie.
The thought occurred to me as I sat in the SUV next to Adrian and watched as the men assembled at Santo’s favorite club, or at least what used to be. In a moment of uncertainty, I’d gone against my first instinct and my preference and put on that stupid thing. It had been a mistake, and I planned to show Daniela my gratitude for her correcting it as soon as I saw her again.
But first things first.
I watched the cluster of five men who stood outside. The group looked anxious, which was understandable given the circumstances, but more importantly, seeing them reminded me of a fact I had momentarily forgotten. I didn’t need to impress or try to influence them.
Tie or not, they worked for me now, for the Syndicate.
“You figure out what Michael was up to yesterday?” I asked Adrian.
He shook his head, but didn’t look at me, instead keeping his eyes focused on the front door, no doubt taking stock of who entered and left.
As was I.
Given what I had seen of Santo’s business, I wasn’t expecting any standouts, and so far, none had looked the part. But I’d long ago learned not to take people at face value, and I wouldn’t start now. Perhaps there would be some useful talent in this group.
“Give them two hours before I go in?” I said, looking at Adrian.
“You won’t need that long,” he replied.
“One, then,” I said, settling against the car seat to wait.
I wasn’t nervous, hadn’t been that in more years than I could remember. But I was excited, which might be just as bad. It wasn’t today, or even the days that would come after that I cared about. No, what mattered was the opportunity I had been presented with, and I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about what this would mean for my future. I needed to keep that under wraps, though. Focus. One step at a time as Maxim had always taught me.
The hour passed quickly, and once it had, I emerged from the SUV, and swiftly made my way toward the club.
It was hours before the place would be open to the public, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that simply from looking at the parking lot, which was filled to near overflowing.
I was completely alert now, not on edge but getting close to it. These types of gatherings drew attention, and one of the Syndicate’s main methods of survival was to not draw attention.
Still, this couldn’t be avoided, and Adrian would alert me if anything came up. So, I pulled open the door and stepped in.
I blinked, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dim room.
The space was small, dingy tables and chairs shoved into every corner and what I thought was supposed to pass for a dance floor at the center.
In back were three rooms that got rented out on the quarter hour and beyond that, Santo’s makeshift office. Adrian had swept the place before, but without speaking, I made a show of walking across the dance floor and to the back. Once I’d confirmed no one lurked, I went back to the main room and stood in the center, looking out over the assembled faces.