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Authors: Annalynne Russo
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minute.
“The situation. With the. Russians.” Andreas yanked the words out. It was like pulling teeth.
“Russians! What kind of racist bullshit is that?” Natasha fumed at him. “This has nothing to do with race.” Andreas bit down on the inside of his cheeks and drew blood.
Anything to buy him time. He needed to get Natasha to see reason.
“Think about it for a minute. The sexual harassment suit is against two bouncers of Russian descent. There are multiple witnesses ready to testify that they purposefully goaded those women outside the club.
And what about the incident with Ivan’s girlfriend? From what I hear, she nearly died.” Andreas spoke softly, trying his best to explain the precarious situation with the utmost sensitivity considering Natasha’s personal connection to the case. “The board of trustees won’t believe it’s a coincidence that these two unfortunate events involve recently-turned vampires from your country.”
“So they’re using my people as a scapegoat? Why now?” Natasha glared back at him with a mixture of both skepticism and seething hostility.
“It wouldn’t be the first time a particular group of individuals was singled out amongst us,” Andreas retorted. “Think back to the 15th century, when the Romanians fought against the Ottoman Empire. That battle wasn’t over land. It was nothing more than a cover up to conceal one vampire’s blood-thirsty rampage.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way.” Natasha cocked her head to the side as if considering the possibility.
Then she lifted her hand to her mouth, her lips forming into a perfect “O.” Andreas saw recognition weave its way through her subconscious. “But this time, there’s more to it than just putting an end to one madman’s killing spree. Natasha, it may come down to them implicating you, specifically. They feel the Russians are under your jurisdiction. It’s possible they will blame you for what transpired.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. I had nothing to do with either of those incidents. Andreas, you’ve got to speak to the board on my behalf. I have served you well all these years.” A single tear rolled down her battle-hardened cheek.
Andreas wanted to wrap her up in his warm embrace and take away the hurt reflected in her eyes. But he knew she would take it the wrong way. Instead, he squeezed her shoulder in support. “They plan to meet next week to discuss Ivan’s fate. Don’t worry. My father and I have your back. I’m just asking that we be very diligent in the future.
It is imperative that we adhere to the employee code of conduct that’s already in place. No exceptions.”
Natasha straightened her shoulders and shook her head from left to right. “No exceptions. I couldn’t agree with you more. I admit that in the past, I have been more lenient than is acceptable. That type of blatant abuse won’t be tolerated in the future.”
“Good. I’m glad we came to consensus on this matter.” Andreas heaved a sigh of relief. He stood up and grabbed his tuxedo jacket before he escorted Natasha out of the house to the waiting limousine. “Let’s just hope those old geezers take it easy on us next week.”
Chapter Eight
A Soiree at the MET
Eva’s strapless, black-sequined gown shimmered like diamonds against the backdrop as a swarm of paparazzi gathered around. Their flashbulbs clouding her vision. She held on to Oliver’s arm as they made their way up the red carpet toward the main entrance of the museum.
“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear.” Oliver used the crook of his finger to force her to look up at him. Eva lowered her lashes and bit down on her bottom lip. Compliments weren’t her cup of tea. She didn’t like to attend high-class soirees like this either. But they were just a part of the job. Still, Eva had gone above and beyond this time. If she was perfectly honest, she’d admit there was only one pair of eyes she wanted to attract at tonight’s
“The situation. With the. Russians.” Andreas yanked the words out. It was like pulling teeth.
“Russians! What kind of racist bullshit is that?” Natasha fumed at him. “This has nothing to do with race.” Andreas bit down on the inside of his cheeks and drew blood.
Anything to buy him time. He needed to get Natasha to see reason.
“Think about it for a minute. The sexual harassment suit is against two bouncers of Russian descent. There are multiple witnesses ready to testify that they purposefully goaded those women outside the club.
And what about the incident with Ivan’s girlfriend? From what I hear, she nearly died.” Andreas spoke softly, trying his best to explain the precarious situation with the utmost sensitivity considering Natasha’s personal connection to the case. “The board of trustees won’t believe it’s a coincidence that these two unfortunate events involve recently-turned vampires from your country.”
“So they’re using my people as a scapegoat? Why now?” Natasha glared back at him with a mixture of both skepticism and seething hostility.
“It wouldn’t be the first time a particular group of individuals was singled out amongst us,” Andreas retorted. “Think back to the 15th century, when the Romanians fought against the Ottoman Empire. That battle wasn’t over land. It was nothing more than a cover up to conceal one vampire’s blood-thirsty rampage.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way.” Natasha cocked her head to the side as if considering the possibility.
Then she lifted her hand to her mouth, her lips forming into a perfect “O.” Andreas saw recognition weave its way through her subconscious. “But this time, there’s more to it than just putting an end to one madman’s killing spree. Natasha, it may come down to them implicating you, specifically. They feel the Russians are under your jurisdiction. It’s possible they will blame you for what transpired.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. I had nothing to do with either of those incidents. Andreas, you’ve got to speak to the board on my behalf. I have served you well all these years.” A single tear rolled down her battle-hardened cheek.
Andreas wanted to wrap her up in his warm embrace and take away the hurt reflected in her eyes. But he knew she would take it the wrong way. Instead, he squeezed her shoulder in support. “They plan to meet next week to discuss Ivan’s fate. Don’t worry. My father and I have your back. I’m just asking that we be very diligent in the future.
It is imperative that we adhere to the employee code of conduct that’s already in place. No exceptions.”
Natasha straightened her shoulders and shook her head from left to right. “No exceptions. I couldn’t agree with you more. I admit that in the past, I have been more lenient than is acceptable. That type of blatant abuse won’t be tolerated in the future.”
“Good. I’m glad we came to consensus on this matter.” Andreas heaved a sigh of relief. He stood up and grabbed his tuxedo jacket before he escorted Natasha out of the house to the waiting limousine. “Let’s just hope those old geezers take it easy on us next week.”
Chapter Eight
A Soiree at the MET
Eva’s strapless, black-sequined gown shimmered like diamonds against the backdrop as a swarm of paparazzi gathered around. Their flashbulbs clouding her vision. She held on to Oliver’s arm as they made their way up the red carpet toward the main entrance of the museum.
“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear.” Oliver used the crook of his finger to force her to look up at him. Eva lowered her lashes and bit down on her bottom lip. Compliments weren’t her cup of tea. She didn’t like to attend high-class soirees like this either. But they were just a part of the job. Still, Eva had gone above and beyond this time. If she was perfectly honest, she’d admit there was only one pair of eyes she wanted to attract at tonight’s
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