Page 13 of Betrayal and Vows

I glance once. “No.”

“What about the blonde next to her? She looks flexible.”

“How can you determine she’s flexible just by looking at her?” I don’t know why I ask. I don’t care. But sometimes, I do wonder what goes on in his head.

Dmitri grins. "The way she moves her hips. Trust me, I have an eye for these things."

I grunt and turn back to scan the crowd.

My job is to watch for trouble, not to evaluate women's sexual flexibility. Though I have to admit, Dmitri's observations are usually accurate. It's a skill I've never understood or cared to develop.

"You know what your problem is?" Dmitri says, settling against the railing beside me.

"You're about to tell me."

"You're waiting for something that doesn't exist."

I don't respond. He's fishing, and I'm not taking the bait.

"Some fantasy woman who's going to make you feel human again," he continues. "News flash—we're not human anymore. We're weapons. And weapons don't get fairy tale endings."

My jaw tightens. "I'm not waiting for anything."

"Bullshit."

"Drop it."

But he won't. He never does.

"You used to fuck and fight and actually enjoy the work. Now you're like a ghost haunting your own life."

I finish my vodka and set the glass down harder than necessary. "Maybe I like being a ghost."

"Maybe you're afraid."

“You’re impossible.”

I take a slow sip of my drink, letting the burn distract me from the ache.

“She’s getting married, you know,” Dmitri says after a moment. “Two weeks.”

I don’t answer.

“Daddy’s little princess marrying a devil.”

Still nothing.

“You ever gonna tell me what happened between you two?”

“No.”

He snorts. “Right. Of course not. What was I thinking? Anton Smirnov doesn’ttalk.He just broods and breaks things.”

I say nothing, my eyes watching.

He nudges me with his elbow. “Come on. Just one night. Pick a girl, have some fun. Forget her for a few hours.”

I laugh once. It’s hollow.