The StongWilled Rose

Chapter 6

The Blue Room

At exactly 8:57 p.m., I pulled up outside the Blue Room.

Not early.

Because I have standards.

Not late.

Because making people wait intentionally is childish.

I switched off the engine and stared at the building.

From the outside, the Blue Room looked painfully normal.

Expensive, but normal.

Dark windows. Gold lettering. Valet parking. Two security guards pretending they weren't armed.

But everyone who mattered knew what this place actually was.

Neutral ground.

No fighting.

No weapons drawn.

No unfinished business handled inside.

Those were the rules.

And apparently even criminals needed rules.

I walked toward the entrance.

One of the guards stepped forward.

"Name?"

"Allegra."

He waited.

I waited.

"Last name?"

"If you need that too, I'm clearly not expected."

His expression changed immediately.

"Miss Bianchi."

"There we go."

The doors opened.

I smiled.

"See? Teamwork."

The restaurant was quiet.

Not empty.

Quiet.

There was a difference.

People sat in private booths, speaking in low voices over glasses that probably cost more than most people's rent.

I recognized three politicians.

Two businessmen.

And at least four criminals pretending to be businessmen.

Cute.

A hostess approached.

"Mr. Dragunov is waiting."

"Of course he is."

She led me upstairs.

The private room was exactly what you'd expect from someone called Viktor Dragunov.

Dark.

Minimal.

Expensive.

Unnecessarily intimidating.

He sat at the end of the table.

Alone.

"You're early," he said.

I checked my phone.

"By one minute."

"Still early."

"I can leave and come back."

That almost made him smile.

"Sit."

I pulled out the chair opposite him.

"No bodyguards?"

"They're outside."

"Brave."

"I could say the same."

I leaned back.

"I don't need one."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Neither do I."

"Then we're both either very confident or very stupid."

"Which are you?"

"Depends on the day."

A waiter entered.

Viktor didn't look away from me.

"Would you like something?"

"No."

"Wine?"

"I'm seventeen."

That finally got a reaction.

His eyebrows rose.

"Right."

"You sound disappointed."

"Surprised."

"Everyone is."

The waiter disappeared.

I folded my arms.

"Okay. Enough mysterious phone calls, uninvited house visits and sending your men into my building."

"They weren't sent to threaten you."

"I know."

"How?"

"If you wanted me threatened, you would've sent different men."

Silence.

Viktor studied me.

I sighed.

"There you go again."

"What?"

"Looking at me like I'm a puzzle."

"Maybe you are."

"Maybe you need a hobby."

A quiet laugh escaped him.

Interesting.

He leaned back.

"Your reputation doesn't match you."

"Which reputation?"

"There are several."

"Exactly."

"They say you're difficult."

"Accurate."

"Impulsive."

"Sometimes."

"Ruthless."

I smiled.

"Depends who you ask."

"And incredibly secretive."

"Yet somehow you found my phone number."

"Wasn't difficult."

That annoyed me.

I leaned forward.

"Let's get something straight. Whatever information you think you've found about me is probably information I allowed someone to find."

His expression changed.

Barely.

But I caught it.

Good.

"Now," I continued, "why am I here?"

Viktor was silent for a moment.

Then he placed a photograph on the table.

I looked down.

A man.

Mid-forties.

Dark hair.

Scar across his eyebrow.

I recognized him immediately.

I didn't touch the picture.

"Where did you get this?"

"So you know him."

"I asked you a question."

"So did I."

I looked up.

"Careful."

His face remained calm.

"Konstantin Orlov."

That name erased every sarcastic comment from my head.

I looked back at the photograph.

Konstantin.

One of the men responsible for the organization that had taken me.

A man I hadn't seen since I escaped.

A man who was supposed to be very far away from Italy.

"What about him?"

"He's here."

I stared at Viktor.

"Where?"

"Interested now?"

"Don't play with me."

"I'm not."

"Where is he?"

"Milan."

My fingers curled beneath the table.

"Since when?"

"Three days."

Three days.

Around the same time my identity became public.

That couldn't be coincidence.

"Why are you telling me?"

"Because he entered my territory without permission."

"And?"

"And he's asking about you."

Of course he was.

I laughed quietly.

"Fantastic."

"You don't seem surprised."

"I'm having a terrible week. My standards for surprise have changed."

Viktor watched me.

"What does Orlov want with you?"

"Ask him."

"I intend to."

"Then why involve me?"

"Because twelve hours after he arrived, one of my warehouses was attacked."

I frowned.

"That's not my problem."

"It becomes your problem when the men responsible are carrying photographs of you."

That shut me up.

Viktor slid another photograph across the table.

Me.

Leaving the Bianchi estate.

My face wasn't completely visible, but it was obviously me.

I stared at it.

Someone had been watching the house.

The SUV.

My stomach dropped.

"The car outside..."

"What car?"

"There was a black SUV."

"When?"

"The day after I arrived."

Viktor's jaw tightened.

"You noticed it?"

"Eventually."

"Plate?"

I told him.

He pulled out his phone and sent a message.

"Who are you texting?"

"Someone who can find it."

"I have people too."

"I'm aware."

That bothered me.

"How aware?"

His gaze returned to mine.

"Your companies are impressive."

I went still.

"My companies?"

"Several logistics businesses. Property holdings. Security firms. Technology investments."

I smiled slowly.

"You've been researching me."

"I research everyone who could become either an ally or a problem."

"Which one am I?"

"I haven't decided."

"That's cute."

His eyebrow lifted.

"Is it?"

"Very."

He almost smiled again.

I picked up Konstantin's photograph.

"Give me twenty-four hours."

"For?"

"To find him."

"No."

I stared at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Orlov is operating in my territory."

"And he wants me."

"Which makes our interests overlap."

I laughed.

"There is no our."

"There could be."

I placed the photograph down.

"I don't do partnerships."

"Why?"

"People disappoint me."

"That's cynical."

"That's experience."

Something unreadable passed through his expression.

Then he nodded.

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Find him yourself."

I narrowed my eyes.

"That was easy."

"But if you enter Dragunov-controlled territory while doing it, you tell me."

"That's not happening."

"Then don't enter my territory."

I smiled.

"I don't like being told where I can go."

"I noticed."

I stood.

"So we're done?"

"For tonight."

I grabbed the photograph.

Viktor looked at my hand.

"Taking that?"

"Yes."

"I didn't say you could."

I slipped it into my jacket.

"You'll recover."

I started toward the door.

"Allegra."

I looked back.

"What?"

"Orlov isn't your only problem."

My smile disappeared.

"What does that mean?"

"Someone gave him your identity."

"I know."

"No."

Viktor stood.

"Someone gave him more than your identity."

I stared at him.

"What else?"

"Your location. Your businesses."

He paused.

"And information about the Bianchi family."

My stomach tightened.

"Who?"

"We don't know yet."

I hated those words.

I reached for the door.

"Then find out."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

I walked out.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in my car with Nico on speaker.

"I need everything on Konstantin Orlov."

Silence.

Then—

"Why?"

"He's in Milan."

Another silence.

A much longer one.

"Allegra."

"I know."

"Does he know you're there?"

"Apparently."

"How?"

"That's what you're going to find out."

I started the engine.

"And Nico?"

"Yeah?"

"Check everyone."

"Everyone?"

I stared through the windshield.

My family had known where I was.

My people knew.

The police knew.

And somehow Konstantin knew too.

"Everyone."

Nico sighed.

"You think someone betrayed you?"

"I think trusting people is how I ended up in an orphanage."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

I ended the call.

Then another message appeared.

Viktor: One more thing.

I rolled my eyes.

Me: Do you ever stop?

His reply arrived.

Viktor: No.

Then another.

Viktor: Orlov has a meeting tomorrow night.

I stared at the screen.

Me: Where?

His answer came seconds later.

Viktor: My territory.

I smiled.

Well.

There went our agreement.