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34 |House on Mosfilmovskaya Apartments Moscow, Russia
Kane fit the final tracker on Svetlana’s luggage then hurried for the door. The woman was in the building’s private gym, but he wasn’t sure for how long, and he was concerned his clandestine entry into the building might be discovered despite Leroux’s successful overriding of the security systems.
Something could have been missed, and his presence had to go undetected.
Minkin was still key, and they had to find him. Now that West had confirmed Natasha’s father was one of the two unidentified men, they had to know if he was in charge. Minkin had said he knew which one was, he just didn’t know the name. Kane suspected Ivashin wasn’t in charge, otherwise he wouldn’t have committed suicide out of fear of someone else coming along to clean up the mess.
But suspicions weren’t proof.
Due to their limited resources, Leroux hadn’t been able to track Minkin beyond their brief encounter, and Svetlana was their best hope. Minkin had suggested he’d be sending for her, the best squeeze the old man could hope for if what remained of his years were spent in hiding. Kane sensed Svetlana did care for the man to a point, certainly enough to continue living a life of luxury, even if it meant some changes to their situation. He suspected, however, that she’d eventually tire of life on the run, and would head back to Moscow to find another sugar daddy to take care of her.
After all, she had made it clear monogamy wasn’t part of her game plan.
The door to the apartment clicked and Kane cursed, rushing back to the bedroom as Svetlana whipped into the apartment like a whirlwind, the sounds of bags, purses, heels and other items being tossed as she made her way inside.
What the hell do I do now?
He sighed.
You take a page out of the old playbook.
He silently entered her ensuite bathroom and turned on the shower, then yanked his top off, thankful he wasn’t wearing a suit with a dress shirt.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
He hopped on the bed and slid under the covers, leaving his chest exposed, and struck as seductive a pose as he could manage. “It’s me, Dylan.”
“Dylan?” She sounded excited rather than scared or angry.
That’s a good sign.
She stepped into the bedroom and he reached over, turning on the nightstand lamp. She smiled, her eyes widening at the sight of his pecs. “Now this is a wonderful surprise.” She paused. “How did you get in?”
“I bribed one of the staff. Don’t tell.”
She headed for the bed, stripping out of her workout wear, when she stopped. She glanced toward the bathroom, the shower still running, steam pouring through the door. “Is that for me?”
“I was told you were in the gym.”
She smiled, holding up a finger. “Don’t you dare move. I’ve got plans for you that will last all night.”
He reached under the duvet. “We’re looking forward to it.”
She hopped once with excitement then rushed into the bathroom, humming happily at what was to come.
And the moment she hit the shower, he put his shirt back on and left, though not before leaving a quick note.
I’m sorry, darling, but work called. Another time, I promise.