Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 105825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I looked across at him. He’d driven me there himself, with the two FBI agents tailing us in a separate car. I knew he really would just get me out of there, no judgment, no questions asked, and I loved him for that. But I shook my head. I was thinking of my dad: this was his favorite night of the year. He’d have wanted me to be there and I wasn’t going to let him down. “No. Let’s do this.”
The car in front moved up, but JD held my gaze for a second, looking at me with something like wonder. I flushed and looked down at my lap. Then we drove forward and it was our turn.
JD got out first, looking like a Texan James Bond in his tux. He scowled at the press, his eyes everywhere, watching for trouble. Then he opened my door and helped me out. Camera flashes blasted me and all I could see were glowing negatives of everything. But JD slipped his arm around my waist and guided me up the stairs.
We moved through a short hallway and then, up ahead, I could hear the big, echoey space. I looked down at myself and my steps slowed. “Everyone’s going to be looking at me,” I mumbled uncertainly.
JD looked at me and his eyes gleamed as if I was the best thing I’d ever seen. “Yeah they are,” he said with feeling. And I felt something in my chest just lift, almost lifting me right off my feet. I took a deep breath and, together, we walked into the ballroom.
At least a hundred couples were there: bankers and business people, actors and politicians. Miles was there with Paige, who looked amazing in a long silver dress, her golden hair in an updo. She was grinning and wide-eyed, squeezing his hand with excitement. He’d given up his plus-one so she could have a night of glamor, when he could have used it for one of his hundreds of female admirers. That decided me: of course Miles wasn’t the killer.
A ripple went through the room and then the crowd just parted, people melting aside as someone approached from the far end of the huge room. People who a second ago had been arrogantly preening suddenly couldn’t move out of the way fast enough. Hedge fund managers who’d been crowing loudly about their gains fell silent. People who’d come to the party to be seen ducked their heads as if wishing they were invisible.
There was something regal about the man: his face, with its sharp cheekbones and full, pouting lower lip, was like something you’d see on a marble statue of an emperor, handsome but mercilessly cold. Familiar, but I couldn’t place it, at first. His tuxedo was immaculate and he wore it with the sort of casual ease that suggested he attended a lot of parties. But as he came closer, I could see the black shadows of tattoos under his white shirt, and not the clean black patterns some Silicon Valley CEO with a rebellious streak might get. These were sprawling and complex, a web of dark violence. And suddenly, I knew who it was. “Konstantin Gulyev,” I thought out loud.
The Russian Mafia boss. And he was heading straight for us.
By Konstantin’s side was a woman with wavy brown hair in a beautiful scarlet dress. Two men I assumed were bodyguards followed at a discreet distance. I looked left, looked right: there was nowhere to run. JD took a step forward but, on instinct, I grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t,” I warned. He was Kostantin’s equal, physically. But this man’s menace went way beyond what he could do in a fist-fight.
Konstantin stopped just a few feet away and I could feel it rolling off him, breaking in waves against us. I wanted to turn and bolt…or duck my head and curtsey. I knew now why everyone had gotten out of this man’s way. All those people had money. But this man…he had power.
“Miss McBride,” said Konstantin. His voice was calm and unhurried, his Russian accent turning the words into silver-edged slabs of cold stone. “Your father was a good man. I was truly sorry to hear of his death.”
He sounded sincere…but then I was the world’s worst person at reading people. JD clearly didn’t buy it: I could feel his muscles tensing under my hand. Konstantin glanced at him and then gave both of us a wan smile. “You suspect I am responsible,” he said lightly.
“It crossed my mind,” muttered JD.
“I assume Agent Callahan of the FBI has weighed in,” said Konstantin. When we blinked at him, amazed, he exchanged a smile with his date. “Oh yes, we know him. What did he say?”
“That killing civilians isn’t your way,” I said.
Konstantin nodded soberly. “And he is correct.”
“But you are in property,” I said. My heart was thumping in fear and a voice in my head was screaming at me to shut up, don’t antagonize him! But I’d been living in fear for over a week. I had to know if this was the man responsible. “If we finish Hudson Tower, it will affect the prices your buildings fetch.”