Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(17)

Misha has taken the utmost pains to avoid interacting with me. The few times I’ve had to go into his office, I kept it short and to the point and he did the same. He barely even looked up at me.

Now, though, his eyes are locked on mine, and I notice the ghost of a smile on his lips. “At ease, soldier. You don’t need to stand when I enter a room.”

“You don’t usually come out here.” I smooth my skirt as I slowly sit back down. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”

“I’m on my way out. I figured I’d let you know before I head down.”

“Let me know what?”

“I have a meeting today at Ivanov Industries,” he informs me. “You will accompany me.”

The way he tells me makes it clear I do not have a choice. “Oh. Okay.”

“There will be a car downstairs to take us there. Be down in fifteen.”

Before I can ask him any more questions, he turns and walks towards the elevators.

Misha has had plenty of meetings this last week, but this is the first time he’s asked me to accompany him. Will this be a normal part of the job? Should I bring my computer? A notepad? A rosary?

I rush to the bathroom for a quick pee and then I go down five floors to find Rowan. She’s at her desk, popping Sour Patch Kids into her mouth like it’s the last bag on Earth.

“Hey, you!” She looks up at me and blanches. “Oh, dang, girl. You look pale.”

“I’m supposed to go with him to a meeting,” I hiss. “To Ivanov Industries.”

“No way! You’re entering enemy territory.”

I almost forgot about that part. “Why is Ivanov Industries considered enemy territory?”

“Honestly, I don’t really know,” Rowan admits. “But as far as the gossip goes, there’s bad blood between Mr. Orlov and the CEO of Ivanov Industries. They say it’s personal.”

“So I’m not wrong to be nervous?”

“You’ll be with Misha, right? Then you’ll be fine,” she says confidently. “Trust me: that man is a force to be reckoned with. Nobody screws with him.”

“Except the CEO of Ivanov Industries, apparently.” I check the time. “Shit, I gotta go. He wants me downstairs, like, right now.”

“Then you better go. Good luck!”

I wave goodbye to Rowan and dash downstairs, clutching my pendant for good luck the entire time.

When I reach the ground floor, I push through the revolving front doors to Orion Enterprises and find three massive, armored vehicles parked along the curb. I glance down the block to see three more. I feel like we’re about to storm Normandy.

Misha is already standing by the door of the glistening Rolls Royce at the front of the procession.

“You’re late,” he snaps the moment he sets eyes on me.

I check the time again. “You told me to be down in fifteen minutes.”

“And sixteen minutes have passed.”

Sighing, I don’t even bother fighting back. I just get into the rear seat of the black Rolls Royce.

Misha joins me. The car is huge, but he dwarfs it. More than an arm’s length between us and it still feels far too close for comfort.

For five minutes, he taps away on his phone and the car doesn’t move. We idle in silence. I’m about to say something when he suddenly throws his arm up and pounds on the roof of the vehicle twice.

Instantly, we’re going.

“Um, I have a question,” I mumble when my heartbeat has slowed again. I’m still twisting my pendant between my fingers.

“Ask it.” He doesn’t look up from his phone.

“My NDA was very specific about not having anything to do with anyone associated with Ivanov Industries. And now, we’re going there. So is that… allowed?”

“You’re going there with me,” he explains bluntly. “That’s the difference.”

“Got it,” I squeak. “No more questions.”

We spend the next twenty-five minutes in silence. When we finally arrive at Ivanov Industries, I can’t help but admire the tall, bronze behemoth of a building. It looms over the surrounding buildings and glimmers in the sunlight. My gut churns with an uneasy feeling as we get out. Enemy territory, Rowan

called it.

Maybe we really are about to launch an invasion.

I shake my head and turn to see what’s happening behind me. Men in dark suits and earpieces flank Misha on both sides, swirling like Secret Service. I feel grossly out of place.

“Paige.”

I jump at the sound of my name. He hasn’t referred to me by my first name since the night we met.

Misha’s lip twitches in the tiniest suggestion of a smile. “As you might have guessed by my backup,”

he says, gesturing at the army of men in suits, “this visit is meant to be a show of power. I can’t fully achieve that effect if my P.A. looks like she’s about to break down in tears.”

I gulp. “You didn’t exactly prepare me for this.”

“It’s not my job to prepare you for anything,” he retorts sharply. “It’s your job to be prepared. No matter what.”

With that, he heads off up the bajillion stairs that lead to the main entrance. I follow reluctantly. All thirty of his men accompany us up the steps. The whole time, I’m breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying not to look as intimidated as I feel.