Chapter 11
1050words
And she knows it.
Sitting heavily in my chair, I stare at our plates of food. Camila didn't touch anything. In fact, she actively refuses every kind gesture I make. I've never had someone reject me so thoroughly. My mind is frazzled as it tries to process what the hell just happened.
A ringing comes from my pocket. Still distracted, I put my phone to my ear. 'Hello?"
'You're not going to get away with this."
An icy waterfall drenches me, clearing my mind of the haze of Camila. The voice on the line is thick, gritty, and easy to recognize.
'Yannick," I say, 'I was almost starting to get worried you wouldn't call."
'Act as calm as you want, you petukh. I'm not joking around. You will pay for this stunt of yours."
He hangs up before I can respond. Holding my phone at arm's length, I start to laugh. The sound grows quickly until I'm gripping my knees, bent over in my chair from the overwhelming mirth. He called to threaten me. All he proved was that I made the right choice by bringing Camila here.
'Why are you in such a good mood?" a woman's voice asks sardonically. Sitting up, I see that Mila has arrived. She's wearing her typical outfit—I've never seen her in anything else—a pair of black jeans and a black tank-top, her cropped jacket shining the way well-worn leather does. Her short, raven-black hair bounces as she approaches. With her snowy skin, she might as well be a walking monochromatic photo.
'I just learned I have the trump card to ending Yannick right here under my roof."
She scans the table of leftovers. 'Is that why you're eating two dinners all alone? You get any bigger, and you won't fit through doors anymore."
I deflate slightly. 'My guest wasn't hungry."
Sitting in Camila's chair, Mila picks up her fork, then searches quickly. 'Who eats steak without a knife?" Not waiting for my answer, she reaches over, taking mine.
'What are you doing?"
'This is a dinner for two, right?" Stabbing the meat with her fork, Mila saws through the tender cut of steak. The chunk she holds up glistens in the low lights. 'Unless you think your guest is going to come back?" She gives me a pointed look. 'Didn't think so." Shoving the food into her mouth, she chews, then arches her back overdramatically. 'Damn, that's good!"
'Your table manners are atrocious."
'Please, you love it," she mumbles through her full mouth. Grabbing the bottle of wine, she adds more to Camila's glass, even though it was already half full. Tossing back a long swallow, she lets out a gasp. 'Who do I need to kill," she starts, 'for you to break out the good stuff?"
'Is this your way of implying I don't pay you enough?"
'I won't say no to you paying me more." Mila winks, then reaches for one of the bread rolls that's sitting on the table. She glances at the tipped-over basket. An assassin like her picks up on every little thing. 'Your guest didn't have good manners, did she?"
Shifting in my chair, I reach for my glass of wine. My appetite is gone, but not my desire to drink. Tonight, I have something worth celebrating.
'She's still learning." Annoyance flares through me as Mila kicks her feet up and crosses her boots on the table. 'And she doesn't seem to be the only one, I think. Why are you here, Mila, especially in light of your recent failures?"
Ignoring my disapproval, Mila eats another bite of steak. As she chews, she points her fork at me. 'I thought you missed me. And I figured you'd want a rundown of what went wrong with Yannick while you were off playing fuck-fuck games."
I perk up curiously. 'You said he showed up but that you couldn't take the shot. You ask who you have to kill for the good stuff? Well, there's your answer."
She waggles a forkful of steak at me. 'If you wanted me to blow chunks off some civilian skulls in my way, just say the word. But I distinctly remember that you instructed me to be?—"
'Discreet, yes." I finish for her. 'But I also wanted Yannick dead. Collateral damage be damned."
Pulling a face, she tears apart the bread roll with her hands. 'Pretty sure this one would have made your guest furious. Unless you plan on making her an orphan."
Grimacing in frustration, I take a long pull of wine. 'It doesn't matter. The plan progresses in a more controlled manner."
'Because she's your trump card."
'Yes." My grip tightens on my glass. I can't keep my grin in check. 'The game has changed. And Yannick just proved it to me before you showed up."
'Oh yeah?"
'He called to threaten me." Swirling my wine, I stare into the red liquid. It's a crimson pool, reminiscent of the way my enemy's blood will be shed. 'For taking Camila. Now, why the fuck would he care?"
'Maybe he thinks you took something that belongs to him."
'Exactly," I say. 'And I got just the idea to twist that knife a little deeper for him."
Dropping her feet from the table, she bends toward me. Mila is young, but her talent in the art of killing is impressive. That, and her ability to rein her emotions in on a whim. With me, though, she has no reservations. Her eagerness at my news reflects my own. We've both been patient for too long. We're done waiting for revenge.
'And how do you intend to do that?" she asks excitedly.
My eyes fall to the floor. Next to my shoe lies the steak knife, the one Camila tried to kill me with. I can still remember how close she came to nicking my jugular. Picking it up, I angle it so that the light dances along the curve.
'Well." I smile. 'All I need is the right proposal."
