Chapter Twenty
Yulia
I don’t know how long it takes me to realize that the reprieve is real, but eventually I calm down enough to stop shaking.
He didn’t go through with it.
He didn’t force me.
I still can’t believe it. I know how hard he was—I felt it. There was no reason for him to show me mercy. I’m not some woman he picked up in a bar; I’m the enemy who just tried to injure him. He should’ve gloried in my pathetic begging and used the weakness I revealed to break me completely.
That’s what I would’ve expected him to do, at least.
Lowering my head, I stare at my naked legs, trying to understand why he stopped. Lucas Kent is not a novice to this life—far from it. According to his file, he joined the United States Navy right after high school and entered the SEAL training program several months later. There wasn’t much in that file on his assignments—only that they were usually classified and extremely dangerous missions—but the reason for him leaving was listed.
It was a murder charge eight years into his service. The man holding me captive killed his commanding officer and disappeared into the jungles of South America. There’s a four-year gap in the file after that, but eventually, Lucas Kent resurfaced as Esguerra’s trusted and extremely deadly second-in-command.
A tingle runs down my arms, and some sixth sense makes me look up.
Two pairs of dark eyes are watching me from the window, one huge and fringed by thick lashes, and the other slightly almond-shaped.
It’s two young women, I realize as the owner of the thick lashes ducks out of sight, leaving me staring at the braver intruder. The remaining girl is about my age and looks Colombian, her bronzed, round face framed by smooth dark hair. She’s pretty—and extremely curious about me, judging by her arrested stare.
I don’t have time to register more because a second later, she ducks and disappears too.
Confused, I continue staring at the window, waiting, but they don’t return. Instead, I hear footsteps and turn my head to see Lucas entering the room with another chair.
Placing it in front of me, he sits down on it and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “All right, Yulia.” His gaze is hard as it travels down my naked body and then returns to my face. “Why don’t you begin by telling me your story.”
My reprieve is over.
Trying to remain calm, I moisten my lips. “May I please have some water?” I’m thirsty—and desperate to put off the interrogation for as long as possible.
He doesn’t move. “Talk and I’ll give it to you.”
I swallow, noting the implacable set of his jaw. “What do you want to know?” Perhaps there are some basics I can share with him, just like I shared with the Russians. I can admit to being a spy for the Ukrainians—he already knows that much—and I can give him a little bit of my background.
Maybe that information will buy me some time without pain.
“You said you started at eleven.” He watches me coldly, without so much as a hint of the lust that burned between us. “Tell me about them—the people who recruited you.”
So much for hoping I can stall him with innocuous revelations.
“I don’t know much about them,” I say. “They would send me on assignments; that’s all.”
His eyes narrow. He knows I’m lying. “Is that right?” His voice is deceptively soft. “And was enrolling in Moscow State University an assignment?”
“It was.” There’s no point in denying it. “They falsified my documents and enrolled me in the university so I could live in Moscow and get close to key people in the Russian government.”
“Get close how?” He leans forward, and I see something dark flash in his pale eyes. “How exactly did they want you to carry out your assignment, beautiful?”
I don’t answer, but I can see that he knows. How else does a young woman insinuate herself into top government circles?
“How many?” Lucas’s voice is sharp enough to slice me into pieces. “How many did you have to fuck to ‘get close’?”
“Three.” Two lower-level officials and one of Buschekov’s friends—which is how I got the job as Buschekov’s interpreter. “I had to sleep with three of them.” I stare directly at Lucas, ignoring the ball of shame lodged deep in my chest. “Esguerra would’ve been the fourth, but I ended up with you instead.”
His eyes narrow further, and my pulse spikes with cold fear. I don’t know why I’m taunting him like this. Getting Lucas angry is a bad idea. I need to be pacifying him, buying myself more time. It doesn’t matter that the contempt on his face is like a knife stabbing into my liver.
An actual knife would be much, much worse.
He stands up abruptly, looming over me, and I try not to flinch as I tilt my head back to meet his gaze. His eyes glint at me, rage flickering in their blue-gray depths again. For a moment, I’m convinced he’s going to hit me, but he grips a fistful of my hair instead, forcing my head to arch back more.
“Did you want them?” His fingers tighten in my hair, making my eyes sting at the pain in my scalp. “Did your pussy cream for them too?”
“No.” I’m telling the truth, but I can see that he doesn’t believe me. “It wasn’t like that with them. It was just something I had to do.” I don’t know why I’m trying to convince him. I don’t want him to know that he was in any way special, but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to lie about this. “It was my job.”
“Just like I was your job.” He stares down at me, and I catch a glimpse of the dark lust lurking underneath his anger. “You gave me your body to get information.”
I don’t deny it, and I see his chest expanding as he draws in a breath. I brace myself for hurtful words of condemnation, but they never come. Instead, his painful hold on my hair eases a fraction, as though he realizes my neck can’t stay bent like that.
“Yulia…” There is a strange note in his voice. “How old were you when you slept with the first one of the three?”
I blink, caught off-guard by the question. “Sixteen.”
Or at least that was when our relationship began. Boris Ladrikov, a short, slightly balding member of the State Duma, had been my first boyfriend, and our affair lasted for the better part of three years. He introduced me to all the important people, including Vladimir, who had become my next assigned lover.
“Sixteen?” Lucas repeats, and I notice a muscle ticking near his ear. He’s furious, and I have no idea why. “How old was your target?”
“Thirty-eight.” I don’t know why Lucas is asking all these irrelevant questions, but I’m happy to answer them for as long as it keeps him away from more important topics. “He thought I was eighteen; the identity I assumed was two years older.”
I expect Lucas to drill me on this some more, but to my surprise, he releases my hair and steps back.
“That’s enough for now,” he says, and I catch that odd note in his voice again. “We’ll resume this in a bit.”
Without saying another word, he turns and leaves the room. A minute later, I hear the front door open and close, and I know I’m alone again.