British Bratva Page 15

  Valentin let out a sigh. "I don't understand you, my friend. You want to bring her into this like that, then it's on your head. When she has a track record, we can talk. I won't object to you bringing her to work with you, as long as she doesn't cause problems."

  "She won't."

  "I hope not, for her sake."

  "The training allowance?"

  Valentin shrugged. "What of it? You know our assets are at your disposal, as long as you get done what we require. It's always been this way, no?"

  I nodded. It was true. I was allowed free rein, without having to justify my expenses. The accommodation I needed were always there, as long as I specified my requirements. No questions were asked, receipts were not required.

  "I wanted to be clear, so there would be no question of me taking what isn't mine."

  "Maxim, we appreciate your honesty. As always, the money we deposit is yours to use however you see fit. Employ her, if that's what you want to do. Personally, I'd marry her instead. But that's just me."

  I gritted my teeth to stop the growl from rising in my throat. There was nothing I wanted more. I didn't need him suggesting it like it hadn't occurred to me. She deserved everything, and I planned to give it to her. "It needs to be right. She has to make the choice."

  Valentin frowned as though the idea was a slightly foreign concept. That didn't surprise me. Not many people argued with Valentin Rozhkov if they knew what was good for them. "She already did, didn't she? Otherwise she wouldn't be with you, she'd be a hundred miles away, trying to disappear."

  That was something I hadn't dared put into words. But maybe Valentin was right.

  "She needs new papers," I said, instead of letting myself get drawn in.

  "Russian citizenship?"

  "Of course. She's with us. There is no other way."

  Valentin tilted his head on a smile I couldn't read. "As you wish. I am looking forward to meeting this Ms Harrington. Leave the paperwork to me. Of course I'd like to know exactly who we're welcoming into the fold. Timoshenko will expect that."

  "Of course."

  Valentin nodded, short and unimpressed. "Then, I will set up another call. We will see how it goes."

  "Thank you Valentin."

  "You have balls Maxim, to ask this. I'll give you that."

  CHAPTER 23

  Maxim

  The offices of Charlton and Taylor were down a little back street in Soho. It was very London chic, wedged in between brightly coloured shopfronts and other boutique media agencies that the run of the mill tourist would never expect to find here, and only a handful of Londoners would ever think contained serious office space.

  Real estate was costly, and highly sought after. Not a single place was left vacant for longer than five minutes. It had been problematic to secure a surveillance position.

  What I'd been left with was an arrangement with a cafe three doors down where I could sit in their window with my laptop for as long as I wanted. But that was barely adequate. I needed eyes on the office space, and I didn't have that.

  Which was why I was taping a wire to Elizabeth's bare stomach, threading it carefully along the line of her sternum and taping the microphone to her, where the rustle of her clothing wouldn't cause too much static.

  She had the most determined stare and it was impossible to read what she was thinking as I skimmed my hand up over her, pressing down the adhesive tape firmly. I had to secure the transmitter and the battery box powering the whole set up, but thankfully, technology had moved on so that the components themselves were tiny. When she pulled her top back on, I took a long, critical minute to ascertain whether the wire was visible, and I couldn't help but notice the hardness of her nipples beneath the thin cotton of her blouse.

  She'd indulged me. Dressing up more than she usually would to make sure she blended in with the fashionably dressed staff. In a boutique place like that, I knew the value that could come with leaning into her Chelsea credentials.

  I pinned a badge onto her blouse and checked the screen of my monitor to make sure the picture was following through.

  "So, you want me to ask for a summer job?"

  "That's your way in. Lay it on thick about being inspired by her and not knowing what you want to do, and being fascinated by the whole process. Then I want you to ask her about Pierce's book. Hopefully she'll let something useful slip, because you're his family and you've flattered her enough."

  I clicked another button on the screen, more to distract myself from the fact that I was sending her in when I should have been going myself. It wasn't remotely dangerous. But I hated using her. Like that, anyway.

  I had to grit my teeth to stop myself from letting my hands explore. When this was over, I was going to touch her in ways she couldn't imagine. I was going to take her on every single surface I could find, until the only word she could remember was my name, and she knew what it felt like to be worshipped.

  That was what she deserved, and thoughts of all the ways I was going to claim her had been torturing me through sleepless nights for weeks. I had so many fantasies to fulfil now that there was nothing holding me back.

  Elizabeth

  His hand grazed the curve of my breast and I tried to stifle my gasp at the rush of heat it shot through me. Embarrassment at my own reaction only grew when I realised my cheeks were so hot they had to be glowing. What kind of inexperienced idiot got completely flustered by something like this?

  I watched his hands as he held the wire in place, and smoothed small square tabs of tape onto my skin almost too carefully for me to bear. He was being so professional and all I wanted was for him to touch me properly. I wanted him to cup my breasts and suck my aching nipples and let his tongue trail the path of the wire he was taping to my skin.

  The solid tent at his crotch as he wired me up was pretty solid proof that he was getting just as wound up. I knew he'd spent weeks watching me from the other side of the street, and a large part of me loved the idea of that. Now that he wasn't a stranger, the thought of him wanting me all this time, being unable to do anything about it was sexy as hell.

  And I loved that right now, in some small way, we were recreating that.

  The only thing that could have been better would have been having an earpiece in so I could hear everything he wanted to say. But Max had vetoed that. Sandra wasn't going to take me seriously if I walked in with a bluetooth headset and didn't take it off.

  "You don't need me to tell you what to do."

  Maybe I didn't, but I kind of wanted him to boss me around anyway. I wanted the purr of his low voice in my ear and the sound of him breathing. It was probably best he didn't agree with me because I was fairly certain he could have brought me off with a few well articulated phrases given the way I was feeling about him right now.

  I couldn't wait for it all to be over so that I could get back here afterwards.

  Maxim

  Seated in the cafe window, I adjusted the angle of the screen of my laptop so that I could watch Elizabeth walk up to the door of the agency's office without making it look like I was watching her at all.

  I'd have liked to put an earpiece on her, so she could hear what I was saying to her, but I didn't have the technology to make that go unseen. My earbuds hooked up to my cell phone, using them to listen through and to anyone else who might have bothered to look, I was listening to music, or maybe even on a call.

  Elizabeth couldn't walk in and ask to talk to Sandra without taking headphones out. Only utter twats refused to take their bluetooth hands free headsets off inside, and neither of us had thought we'd get away with it. But I could hear every word she said even if I couldn't talk back to her.

  "Here goes nothing," she murmured under her breath and I heard the buzz of her pressing the entry phone as I saw her finger connect with it.

  I wanted to tell her to drop her shoulders so she stopped looking so bloody suspicious. But it was all out of my hands now. Maybe it made sense that she was nervous.

  I cou
ld hear the static buzz of the door unlocking, and I knew we were moments away from her introduction sending a shockwave through the building. There was nothing I could do from here to influence the way it went. The only thing I could do was trust her to get it right.

  I heard her climb the stairs, her shoes echoing on each hard step and I wondered whether the interior was shabby chic or if it had all been gutted and turned into a white, shiny, minimalist enclave. It didn't matter in the slightest.

  "Elizabeth Harrington, here to see Sandra Charlton please."

  "Oh- Uh. One moment please."

  Whoever it was manning reception didn't sound all that calm about it. The shock was evident in her voice. I could well imagine why.

  Elizabeth had been with me ever since Sutherland disappeared from his home, no thanks to the pair of us, over a week ago. The media had assumed she'd been tangled up with the same misadventure. Seeing her walk right in as though nothing at all had happened must have been as close as most people got to seeing a ghost.

  I could imagine the smirk on Elizabeth's face even from out here.

  I opened up a plan of the schematics of the building that Valentin had procured for me when we'd thought the only option was going to be a midnight raid. Partly to make sure I looked busy and partly to make sure I knew exactly where she was.

  At that moment she was standing in a small area where the architect had envisioned a reception desk opposite a small grouping of chairs and a few pot plants. Sandra's office was one level up and behind reception was another room where less well respected clients were seen, most likely in among the filing cabinets and the coffee making facilities.

  I heard the receptionist relay the message to Sandra, and realised it was probably the PA I'd been talking to, trying to get something useful out of at the publicity event. She'd made herself sound a little more important than the girl who manned the front desk.

  "Ok. Ms Charlton says you're to go up. Hers is the door at the front."

  "Thank you so much."

  Elizabeth

  I'd been here a few times, early on, before Mum died and I remembered Sandra's PA being snotty to both of us, so it was quite rewarding to see that shocked look on her face and have her do a bit of grovelling to me for a change. Maybe it was petty, but it felt so good knowing that she'd tried to get her claws into Maxim and failed, because the only woman he wanted was me.

  "See you later Violet."

  Careful on the stairs in the heels that Maxim had suggested I wear, I clip-clipped my way to the floor above and knocked on the panel door, waiting for Sandra to invite me in. Only because today I needed to be on her good side.

  "Enter."

  She had the vibe of a creative pitbull. Brightly coloured Murano glass beads and red lipstick. A severely tailored tunic that reminded me of the mid-century modern aesthetic that was so trendy everywhere these days. Mustard yellow wasn't a colour I could have said suited her.

  "Goodness Elizabeth, everybody thought you were dead. You do know what happened, don't you? Where the bloody hell is Pierce?"

  "I just found out," I told her, pulling on a little wrinkle of my eyebrows and letting my voice drift a little more soft and vacant. "I got back from youth hosteling in Wales this morning."

  Maxim hadn't thought it mattered that I should have been in walking boots and carrying a rucksack rather than court shoes and a pencil skirt. He said Sandra would care more about the book and that there was no sense distracting her by trailing mud all over the expensive coir carpet.

  He seemed to be bang on the money.

  "Oh you poor thing. What the devil are you doing here?"

  "I thought you might be able to do me a favour."

  Sandra's office was wall to wall bookshelves, mostly things written by authors they represented. It was as much a trophy cabinet as anything else could be. The only wall space had framed pictures of her at awards events, shaking hands with people who all looked very important.

  She picked up a pen off the desk, fiddling with it between her fingers in an almost impatient gesture. Her sympathy was wearing thin.

  "Well I just know that Pierce would have absolutely hated to have publication delayed for anything at all. And it seems rather like after all this whoever's been threatening him has gone and gotten their way. It's heartbreaking."

  Sandra's eyes narrowed and the pace of the pen swishing up and down between her fingers increased. "Go on."

  "Well, I know he was so desperately secretive about what he was working on, but it's really the only thing I have of him, and I would love to be a part of bringing it to the final step, publication. If you'll have me."

  Her eyebrows arched sharply. "Are you asking me for a job, Ms Harrington?"

  "Oh goodness, no!" I laughed. She laughed. We all laughed, even though we both knew there was nothing funny about it. "I was thinking I could volunteer my time. Now that I'm done with school I'm at a loose end, and I can't mill about at my friend's house all day long."

  "I should think not." Sandra readjusted her glasses. "Well, as it happens there isn't a great deal left to do on Pierce's book. As it happens, I'm done with all of the formatting changes and I'm running the final copy over to the printer this afternoon personally. By hand. Pierce really was - is - such a stickler for nothing going via email and I dread to think what he'd do to me if a copy got intercepted."

  "Oh that's wonderful." I fixed my smile in place. "He'll be so pleased. Do you have it here? Do you think I could take a look. It was just all so… unexpected to come home to this, and it's the only thing I have of him because the house…" I covered my mouth with my hand and gave a delicate-sounding sob, imagining I was some quivering romantic heroine.

  Sandra didn't entirely look convinced. I sobbed again, and I could practically see the cogs turning. Whether she believed me or not, the prospect of risking a teenage girl breaking down in her private office was too horrific to bear.

  She plucked a tissue out of the square little box of tissues on the corner of her desk and held it out to me, barely disguising her look of discomfort. "There, there. Come now. Do pull yourself together."

  I took the tissue and let out a wet sounding gasp, like I was still struggling to control my tears.

  "If I could just take a look at his book. I'd feel so much better to be able to read his words."

  Sandra's smile turned brittle. "Darling, I would just love to be able to do that, but you know how particular Pierce is. No one is to read the thing before it's out in the public domain."

  I nodded, looking suitably miserable. And Sandra let out a long suffering sigh and spun her desk chair over to the low filing cabinet, propping one pair of glasses onto her head to keep her hair back out of her face and putting on the pair slung around her neck on a slim chain.

  When she came up from flicking through files, she put a thick manilla folder down on the desk. It was tied up with a length of ribbon in what I recognised as Pierce's signature style, because he thought it added class or gravitas, or because he was a superstitious old bastard. I didn't really care what his reasons were. And there was a slim black pendrive tucked under the ribbon.

  "This is the only hard copy in existence, and I damn well hope he has an electronic back up because he banned me, on pain of death from making another copy of the blasted thing on his encrypted pen drive. You understand why I'm a little possessive of it."

  My eyes fixed onto the folder, breathing suddenly calm. It was within grasping distance. I could practically snatch it up off the desk and get everything Maxim needed. There would be no question of me showing my worth to the Bratva if I did just that.

  Almost as though she read my mind, Sandra whipped the file away, sliding it back into the filing cabinet before she locked it and pocketed the key.

  "Rest assured, it's perfectly safe with me, and I will personally make sure you get an advanced copy. It's such rum luck about your house."

  "Oh this is just wonderful. Thank you so much, Sandra. Yes, all the business with
the house is rather inconvenient." If I hadn't already been prepared for her utter lack of empathy for my apparent situation, she might have gotten to me. But I'd known what a bitch she was when I walked in here.

  I'd suspected for a while that she knew exactly what Pierce was like, but she chose not to do anything, not to ask any questions, because he was the cash cow and she'd have been a fool to kill that with some inconvenient truths.

  I smoothed a hand over my skirt. "Well, I'd best be heading off."

  Sandra had already gone back to flicking over the manuscript she'd been pouring over when I came in, and she glanced at me through her glasses.

  "So glad you could stop by Elizabeth. You're welcome to ask Violet if she has any filing to keep you busy on the way out. I'm sure we could supply some kind of reference for you after a month or two of doing that, seeing as you're Pierce's step-daughter. Anything for darling Pierce."

  I gritted my teeth and weaponised my politeness, using the very best manners my mother ever taught me. "I couldn't possibly thank you enough, Sandra. You've always been so kind."

  The words I used may have said exactly the opposite, but I was confident I'd left Sandra with the distinct impression from the tone of my voice and the coldness of my stare that if she turned up dead tomorrow, I would happily spit on her grave.

  Her eyes narrowed on me on the way out and I trailed down the stairs, straight out of the front door, without so much as glance in Violet's direction.

  "I hope you heard all that Maxim. It sounds like we need to move fast."

  Elizabeth

  When I pushed the button to unlock the door and tumbled out of the narrow entrance door back into the street, the window seat in the bright yellow cafe across from Sandra's office was conspicuously empty.

  Trying not to frown, I clattered my way over to the cafe and peered in through the glass, hoping to see that he was somewhere in the back, ordering another coffee, or his things were there but he was using the loo at the back.