Katerina

It's obvious that we all can't enter the office. Sasha would find it hard to wedge himself in the room solo.

"I'll bring the paperwork to you," my mom says, her face flushing. She hurries to gather it up, dropping sheets on the floor, kneeling to retrieve them again. Her anxiety is putting my own nerves on edge.

Sasha crosses his arms over his broad chest. The gold cufflinks on his suit jacket glint in the lights. Suddenly, I'm reminded of the gun.

"You look pale," he says. "Do I frighten you, ptichka?"

"No. And stop calling me that. I have a name."

"Forgive me," he chuckles dryly. "I forget the names of people I don't need to remember."

Fuming at his brazen comment, I bite my tongue.

"Here we are!" Mom blurts. Handing the stack to Sasha, she links her fingers at her waist like she's waiting for a compliment. I hate this whole situation. But above all, I hate the amount of hope Mom's gaze betrays when she looks at Sasha. I want to shake her, to yell at her, and to ask if this place means nothing to her.

If Dad's memories mean nothing to her. But I can't. Because for the first time in a long time, I do see something in her eyes—an emotion that she might've forgotten over the years.

Hope.

Muttering to himself, Sasha flips through the papers. He scans them one by one, scrutinizing them closely. "Not surprising," he sighs.

"What?" I ask.

"This place is burning money like a furnace. No wonder you need me."

"We don't need you⁠—"

"It doesn't matter," he cuts me off. "I don't need it to be successful as a studio. The location is what I'm buying."

"What are you saying?" I ask warily, heart hanging in my throat, terrified of what his answer is going to be.

Handing the papers to my mother, Sasha rakes his eyes over me from head to toe. "I'm turning it into a hotel. Five star."

And just like that, my heart plummets into my heels. "You can't be serious!"

"I very much am."

"But you said it was too small! A hotel, here? Impossible."

"I'll tear it all down." He shrugs. "And once everything is gone, I'll rebuild."

Tear it all down. My chest twinges painfully. There's not enough room in my ribs for how fast my lungs are expanding. My knees suddenly feel rubbery, and my hand twitches to grab something to steady myself, lest I risk collapsing to the floor at how easy and unconcerned he sounds about destroying my childhood.

"I won't sell it." The words slip out of my lips before I can stop myself.

His eyes darken at my insolence, and my mother's mouth drops open.

"Katerina!" she exclaims. But I'm beyond the point of trying to be polite to this asshole. Someone has to care about this place!

"I won't let him, or anyone, ruin what we built! What you and Dad worked so hard for!" Shaking my head violently loosens my bun. I square off with Sasha. He's far bigger than me, but I refuse to let his size intimidate me. "We won't sell to you."

He's judging me with fresh curiosity. I can't help but imagine him as a shark circling me in the open ocean. Mom's hand touches my elbow lightly.

"We will be selling," she says flatly, doing her best to keep her voice even.

"Mom! No!"

"Sasha ... Mr. Ivanovsky. If your offer is serious, the contract can be signed right now."

Deflating at her unwavering statement, I inch backward, away from both of them.

Sasha's face beams with delight as a grin curls on the handsome face that I've come to detest in such a short time. "It's regrettable that your daughter has such misgivings about my plans."

"Because you're destroying my childhood!" I shout.

My mother cringes. But Sasha just lets his grin transform into a sneer. "I'm turning something broken into something new. Rebirthed, repurposed, whatever you want to call it."

I curl my lip in disgust. "I call it greed."

"Do you think I'm taking advantage of the two of you?" he asks, lifting a hand to stroke over his dark hair.

That's when I see it.

The small orbs dance under the lights in the same way hundreds of ballet dancers have spun in this place over the years. There's no doubt in my mind. I know exactly what I'm looking at.

It's a Rolex watch.

The same one that I saw last night!

Blood suddenly rings in my ears; it drowns out Sasha as he continues to speak. "It's awful that you have such a low opinion of me, ptichka. Allow me to change that. After all, we're going to be seeing a lot of each other as the details of the contract come together."

He's the one.

He killed that man!

I stumble slightly. I can't breathe. Sasha narrows his eyes, and I have an awful, unreasonable fear that he's reading my mind.

Dropping his hand to his hip, my eyes follow his wrist down. He watches me do it. Shit ... Does he recognize me from last night? I ran away as fast as I could ...

He didn't see my face ... did he?

"Mr. Ivanovsky is right, Katerina," Mom says. "Let's keep the peace. This will work out for all of us, even if it doesn't seem that way now. It's a chance to have a fresh start in life. Please, sweetheart."

"Listen to your mother, ptichka," he agrees with a sideways smirk. "Don't let your own selfish wants stop you from giving your mother the chance that she deserves."

"It doesn't matter what I want," I whisper. "Mom already agreed to the deal."

"I'm aware," he notes, "but I prefer everyone to go away happy from a deal. I don't like misgivings; they complicate things. And I prefer that at the end of every deal, I walk away with the opposing party as friends. And in my experience, the road to intimate friendship begins with a drink."

Is ... is he asking me out?

The audacity of this guy!

But at the same time, his words intrigue me. He wants to convince me that the deal is good. Which means there's still a chance I can convince him that it's bad.

But can I accept this? I'm sure he's the guy who I saw kill a man last night. I turn to look at my mother, and she implores me silently with her eyes.

She has no idea who this man is ... or how dangerous he might be.

I'm being paranoid. He doesn't know I was there last night. He can't know; he'd have said something by now.

If nothing else, maybe a drink will at least get me closer to the truth of who he is. And if I manage to convince him to back out of the deal, so much the better.

So, I give a curt nod. "Fine. Drinks under the pretense of business, that's all."

"I wasn't aware that this was anything else other than business," he teases. "Or is there something else you think I want from you, ptichka?"

His smile makes him more handsome, and the sight of it causes my body to betray me. A new spark of heat drips from my belly and settles in my inner thighs. It's unfair for a man this awful to be this good-looking. It's a wicked joke; it has to be.

"Where do you want to meet?"

Sasha gently rakes his teeth against his lower lip, almost as if he's hinting at how he'd use those teeth on me. But whatever arousal he's growing in my core evaporates when he speaks.

"Chucky's Lounge." His smile shifts, and the playful glint in his eyes is replaced with something else. "But we should go before it gets too dark. Terrible things are known to happen around there after midnight near the docks, especially to people who go poking around where they shouldn't."

He extends his hand to me. Realizing that I have no other choice, I take it. And at the shocking warmth of his grip, a surge of electricity dances its way along my arm and straight into my heart. His smile locks me into place, but there's no warmth in his eyes.

Instead, there's only something predatory and dangerous. His pupils widen slightly as our hands remain locked, and I see myself reflected in their infinite dark depths—like a gazelle on the savannah trapped in the gaze of a starving lion.

And that's when I know I'm screwed.