Aria’s POV
Romanov didn’t waste time with breakfast the next morning. He waited until I’d barely swallowed my coffee before sliding a slim black folder across the table like he was dealing cards in a game only he understood the rules to.
“Elena’s file,” he said. “Read it.”
I stared at it as if it might detonate. “Why?”
“Because I want to know if you notice anything my investigators missed.” His voice was flat, unreadable, the same tone he’d use to order dinner. “Or because I want to see how you handle information about the woman you replaced. Take your pick.”
Either answer meant he was still testing me. I opened the folder anyway.
Elena Voss stared back at me from a photograph clipped to the first page, and something ugly twisted in my chest before I could stop it. She was beautiful
