It was probably an exaggeration.
Almost certainly.
I hoped.
“He looks like a Bond villain,” Kam muttered,sotto voce.
I elbowed him as discreetly as I could manage. It would be more accurate to say that Nikolayev was feared by those in political power than to say that he was liked—but there was no reason to tempt fate by saying things like that in public.
Not that Kam’s observation was entirely inaccurate. Broad shoulders... iron-gray hair streaked with silver... thick, neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard... two-piece charcoal suit at odds with the sea of black tuxedos around him... he looked like a man who considered this entire soirée beneath him. It was clear that he’d come here for the sole purpose of ensuring no ground was lost in the political battle to subjugate my people and wipe out dissenters—not to waltz or hobnob with political dignitaries.
A hand touched my shoulder, and it was all I could do not to jump.
“Madam Ambassador,” said a pleasant male voice.
I turned to see a vaguely familiar face and immediately started flipping through my mental Rolodex to attach a name.
“Secretary Fouchet,” I replied, forcing warmth into my voice. “What a pleasure to see you again. Heavens, how long has it been?”
The departmental official from Luxembourg smiled, obviously pleased that I’d remembered him. “Oh, a good year at least,” he said. “It was that meeting of the western regional authority in Paris, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, I believe you’re right,” I said, slipping into my role with the ease of long practice, despite the presence of the mass murderer in the room.
“You’re looking particularly lovely tonight. May I request the honor of a dance?” Fouchet asked, extending a well-manicured hand to me, palm up.
“Of course,” I told him. “It would be my pleasure.”
I took his hand and flashed Kam a brief look, meeting his unhappy brown gaze before heading off to play the part of the socially competent diplomat.
Fouchet was a pleasant enough dance partner—prone to the subconscious beta attraction to an omega-in-hiding, but too polite and self-possessed to step outside the bounds of professionalism. He also waltzed well enough that I was in no danger of mashed toes—at least, not until the moment I caught sight of Nikolayev and another official I didn’t recognize looming over Kameron. Kam’s absolutely straight spine spoke of base terror barely contained.
I nearly stumbled over my own feet, and Fouchet steadied me as we came to an ungainly halt in the middle of the dance floor.
“Forgive me,” I managed, in response to Fouchet’s solicitous murmur of concern. “I must have slipped on something. I’m not usually such a clumsy dance partner.” The words sounded far away to my own ears, and I was barely aware of the details as I extricated myself with enough grace for it not to seem out of place or unusual.
After thanking him for the dance, I walked in something of a daze toward the potential train wreck in progress across the ballroom.If he can sniff out hidden omegas, he’ll also be able to smell fear, I told myself.You’re a respected UFNA ambassador. Act like it.
Shoulders squared, chin up, I approached the little cluster of three, aware that others in the immediate vicinity were also turning to look. Kam formed the uneasy vertex of an acute triangle as the other two stood side by side, facing him.
“Ah,” he said, in the tones of someone whowasn’ttwo seconds away from losing his shit. “Madam Ambassador. I was just telling Chairman Nikolayev and his associate that you would be pleased to discuss the proposed policy changes with them once the summit begins tomorrow.”
“Ambassador McCready.” The Chairman cut across any opening gambit I might have made, foregoing the proper ‘Madam’honorific as he addressed me. “Is it true that Prime Minister Fairbanks intends to negotiate new restrictions on the current alphomic extradition treaty between the United Federation of North America and the Committee’s international tribunal?”
His deep voice seemed to press down on my shoulders, accented with the sharp vowels and growling consonants of his native Russia. I had to physically fight not to bow beneath its weight.
“All of the proposed points of debate are included in the documents outlining the summit agenda, Chairman,” I replied pleasantly, no hint of my struggle coming through. “And as Mr. Patel has indicated, I will be happy to discuss them with you once the summit is underway.”
Gray eyes a few shades lighter than his utilitarian charcoal suit jacket pinned me, as though trying to peel back the layers of my skull and see inside. I wanted to grab Kam by the hand and flee. I wanted to fall to my knees on the marble floor and roll my head to the side, baring my throat in submission. I wanted to scan the room for our security detail, just to make sure they were there.
That last impulse was the hardest to quell, and while it might not prove quite as disastrous as either of the other two options, it was still an unacceptable show of weakness. I had no doubt Kam was fighting the same urges, and the knowledge that he was strong enough to resist them gave me that same strength. I raised an eyebrow, projecting unconcern.
The nameless sycophant at Nikolayev’s side shifted restlessly. “The Committee will not countenance interference in the great work by an upstart administration barely six months into its tenure.”
“Then we will have much to discuss, it appears,” I told him with false brightness. “I look forward to it. But for now, I’m afraid I must return to a discussion with Secretary Fouchet. It was a pleasure to speak with you.”
I gave them both a polished smile and gestured for Kam to precede me toward a larger knot of dignitaries near the buffet table, having glimpsed Fouchet among them.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Kam said politely, before turning and forging a path through the ever-shifting crowd. I followed, feeling the back of my neck prickle almost painfully under Nikolayev’s gaze.
