He takes another sip. This time, I can’t quite tell if he’s savoring or stalling.
“The auction,” he says finally. “That was unexpected.”
“Was it?”
He nods slowly.“Indeed, it was. First of all, there’s the fact that you rarely grace us with your presence at the auctions. In fact, that’s the first one I remember you ever attending.”
“And second?”
He leans forward. “One. Million. Dollars.” Kolya shakes his head in disbelief. “One million goddamn dollars. And for what? A little toy to play with for a while until you get bored? That’s what these women are for, Gabriel. And that’s what I wanted with her.”
“Why do you care? You walked out of there with a prize that night. Or, at least, Sasha did. Why didn’tyouattend, I wonder? Here you are meeting with me about an auction that you didn’t even bother going to.”
I already know the answer for the most part. He’s sick. And he was likely too sick that night to leave the house. My sources tell me that such nights are becoming more and more common for Kolya.
“I had other affairs,” he says, his tone sharp. “But make no mistake, I wanted the one you bought.”
But he didn’t seem to recognize her just now when he saw her. Interesting.
“Well, I’m the one who has her.”
“And why is that?” he asks. “What makes her so special?”
“That’s my business. Maybe I just liked the way she looked in her dress.”
Not a lie. But there’s so much more to it than that.
“Perhaps.” He sets his glass down, leaning forward. “But when you outbid my lieutenant in front of half the city’s Bratva, you made itourbusiness. People are talking,friend.Wondering why the hell the head of the Camorra would humiliate Kolya Sokolov over a girl.”
I don’t react. I just watch him and wait for him to finish.
“So I’ll ask directly,” he continues, “what is she to you?”
“Mine.”
“Yes, you’ve made that clear. But there are many women in this city, Gabriel. Many beautiful girls that you could have for far less than a million. Why her?”
Because I owe her father my life.
Because I’ve been keeping her alive for twenty years.
Because when I saw her on that stage, terrified, furious, and so fucking beautiful, it made my chest ache. I would’ve paid ten million. Twenty. Whatever it took.
But I don’t tell him any of that.
“Does it matter?”
He shrugs. “It might.” Kolya picks up his glass again, studying me over the rim. “If, for example, there were extenuating circumstances. Perhaps a connection to certain families, certain names.”
My expression doesn’t change, but my pulse kicks up a bit.
He’s fishing.
He doesn’t know, but he suspects.
Thea’s something of an Anastasia figure in our circles—a woman who some believe is real, while others believe she is just a myth.
But I know just how real she is, especially after last night.