that the man is bad at. It wouldn’t be annoying if he weren’t also so good-looking and hung like a fucking horse.
After hours of champagne, I whisper to him that I need to use the restroom. He directs me to a side door leading to a set of bathrooms and tells me to hurry back. While I make my way there, I start turning over various plans of escape in my head. I’m determined to get out of this house come hell or high water. If caught, I’m prepared to die for it. I no longer have anything else to lose.
I linger in the bathroom for several minutes, pacing the floor and trying to figure out which of my plans has the best chance of success, and thinking over all the ways each one can go wrong. None of them are foolproof, but each one is better than passively accepting my fate.
I’m halfway back to the ballroom before I spot a sliver of light from a door farther down the hall. The murmur of a male voice comes from beyond it, speaking a foreign language. As I edge closer, I recognize the voice as Viktor’s, but the language isn’t Russian. It isn’t Spanish either, which makes me curious about who he’s talking to, and whether all mafia men are multilingual. In their line of business, it would certainly make sense.
Sure enough, when I peek through the crack in the door, I find Viktor pacing the floor and talking on his cell phone. Diego’s warning about Viktor echoes in my mind, and I can’t ignore it. When the scariest man I’ve ever met tells me I should be afraid of another scary man, it makes sense to listen.
I’ve just decided to go back to the party when Viktor glances up and notices me hovering in the doorway. A wolfish smile spreads across his face, and he says a few more terse words in the foreign language before ending the call.
“Elena,” he purrs, motioning for me to come inside. “I’m sorry to be so rude, leaving your party like this, but the call was important.”
I take a step into the room but leave the door hanging open in case I need to make a quick exit. “It’s no problem. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame you if for needing a break. The parties and events, all the mingling and smiling … it’s exhausting.”
Viktor laughs, taking a few steps closer to me but keeping a safe enough distance. Apparently, Diego’s threat was taken seriously. “You must really love Diego, to put yourself through all this for him.”
I hold his gaze, answering the clear challenge in his words. “I do. He’s worth it.”
Viktor’s smile is knowing, like he knows I’m lying through my teeth. “Well, I shouldn’t hold you up. Wouldn’t want your fiancé to get jealous. Not that I fault him for it. If I had such a precious jewel in my hands, I would want to protect it, too.”
I’m just about to accept the out he’s given me and run, when my gaze falls to the phone in his hand. He’s had it out this entire time, idly spinning it in one hand. Suddenly, my rudimentary plans don’t seem good enough. Not without assurance that I’ll find help once I’m off this island.
“Actually,” I reply, coming farther into the room and pushing the door behind me. It doesn’t close all the way, but it’s enough to make me feel safe from intrusion. “Do you mind if I use your phone? I left mine upstairs and I just need to make a quick call.”
Viktor doesn’t seem to find my request odd, and I nearly cry with relief when he extends the phone to me without question. “Of course. Anything for the lady of the house.”
The phone is unlocked, and as I open the keypad to dial Tracy’s number my hands begin to shake. I feel like I’m going to faint from the shock of how easy this is. I haven’t touched a phone aside from the messages Diego has allowed me to send, and here Viktor has just placed one in my hands—a lifeline, a way out.
I never get to dial. Just before I do, a crashing sound scares me nearly out of my skin. I jump and spin, the phone clattering to the floor as I find Diego and two of his men filling the doorway.
My fake fiancé looks a lot like the man I first met those few months ago, his face tight