Page 30 of A Spy is Born
“Yes, you should try it.”
“What’s it about?”
Before he can answer, a bell rings, and there is a call for us to go into dinner. "We are at the same table," Vladimir tells me. "I arranged it."
I give him a smile. "Then we will have a chance to get to know each other better.”
He puffs up a little as his eyes raise over my head. I turn to see Julian approaching, his easy smile, and even easier grace, clearing him a path just as Vladimir's raw, dangerous power does. "Angela," Julian says, his eyes flitting over my face for a moment, searching it, before jumping to Vladimir.
"May I introduce—" I laugh, smiling at Vladimir. "You never told me your name."
He extends his hand, leaving the refilled champagne flute unattended on the bar top. "Vladimir Petrov," he says. Julian covers up a wince as their hands grip.
"Quite a strong grip you have there, mate," Julian says, shaking out his fingers with a little more drama than necessary.
I put my own glass on the far side of Vladimir's and tilt the ring over his as I bring my hand back to myself. A small pressure on the tiny latch releases the stone. It drops with a plunk so loud to my ears I'm surprised that the two men are still staring at each other as I pick up the glass and bring it around to Vladimir. The stone is gone by the time I hold it out to him—dispersed amidst the bubbles. "Here," I say, offering it to him.
He glances down at me and softens his expression. "Let's go in."
I turn to Julian, "Vladimir is at our table," I say.
"Oh, jolly."
"Want a drink before we head to dinner?” I ask. Julian shakes his head. Picking up my own glass, I hold it up to Vladimir for another toast. He gives me a broad smile, but there is something possessive about it.He wants me and is willing to do what it takes to get me.
Right back at you, baby.
Our glasses clink, but this time he takes a small sip instead of downing it.Crap.
Julian offers me his arm, and I take it. Vladimir reddens but is not deterred, walking right next to me, refusing to cede any space to the crowd around us.
It's not until we reach the entrance to the banquet hall that he has to drop back. I glance over my shoulder to check on him. His glass is still in his hand, and his eyes are trained on me. When our gazes meet, I see frustration that melts into hope at my attention.
A man touches his shoulder, and he turns to him. The crowd shifts, and Julian and I are in a large banquet room, Vladimir still in the stream of people behind us.
Round tables covered in fine linen, fancy china, and boastful floral arrangements surround a dance floor. At the front of the room is a stage with a large screen and a band playing soft music.
Julian leads me along the side of the room to one of the front tables. "That guy is kind of scary."
"Yes," I agree.
"He's at our table?"
"Apparently he's admired me for some time."
"Your first powerful stalker." He nods to himself, as if this is some classic stop on the road we are both traveling. "I had a Dutch princess who kept showing up at every festival. This was years ago." He shakes his head at the memory, a private smile playing across his lips as he pulls out a chair for me. I sit, and his breath brushes my shoulder as he helps push the chair in. "She gave up eventually."
He looks past me to the entrance. "This one might be a harder case. I'll stay close."
Vladimir appears in the doorway, the man who stopped him, short and stocky with silver hair cropped close to his block-shaped skull, still by his side. He exudesprivatesecurity—his eyes roam the room, his head bent slightly as if listening to an ear piece.
Vlad is shaking his head, eyes down as they move across the room in our direction. Julian takes a seat next to me. The room fills with the sound of clinking glasses and murmurs of conversations.
The silver-haired security man moves away from Vladimir, going to stand by one of the large windows, hands behind his back, and his employer continues toward us, putting a smile on. He stops at a different table, placing his large hand on a man’s shoulder and making him blanch.
Vlad jostles the seated man a few times, lets out a bellow of laughter, and then starts our way again. The glass is gone.Shit, did he drink it or dump it?He said he didn't like champagne that much.
I glance down at my ring. Without the stone, it’s odd looking, and I slip it off, pushing it into my clutch. Our table is filling up, and Julian is chatting with the other occupants…but I only have eyes for Vladimir. He takes the free seat to my left and, giving Julian one quick glance of distaste, brings his focus to me.
