Page 8 of Shutter and Sin
Strange Moscow47
You want to block your best paying subscriber? Do you really think that is a smart decision, beautiful?
Delivered
“I don’t care if it’s smart or not. You’re chasing everyone away, and it’s not nice. Can’t you learn to play nice with the rest of your peers?”
Strange Moscow47
Do they look or feel like my peers? Stop insulting me.
Delivered
Urghhh! There’s no talking to this man. So, I scoff and turn my attention back to the others who are thankfully still on the live and seemingly putting up with the little squabble. “Alright, guys, have a good night,” I say, smiling at the screen. The smile drops with my next words. “StrangeMoscow47, I hope you go to hell, and I hope your pillow is always hot.”
With that, I close the laptop. Good freaking night.
It’s been two weeks since StrangeMoscow47 first appeared in my live streams. I still can’t decide if he’s a blessing or a curse. My loyal group of twenty regulars has dwindled to five, probably because they can’t handle watching me focus all my attention on the guy showering me with expensive gifts. I never mean to ignore them, but when someone’s tipping you hundreds of thousands of rubles, you kind of have to prioritize.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand just as I’m winding down from the night’s broadcast. I pick it up, and the gruff voice of my boss, Sergei, fills my ear.
“Dress up and meet me at the service entrance of the Rosewood Hotel in forty minutes,” he barks, going straight to the point without as much as a greeting. “I’ve already got fake IDs for both of us.”
Stifling a yawn and fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I put on the most logical tone. “I can’t make it tonight, Sergei.”
“Zoya, are you…”
“You pay me peanuts for these jobs,” I cut in. “And I’m doing perfectly fine with my other line of work lately.” It’s late. I’m ready to hang up and go to sleep.
“It’s the Morozov event, Zoya. Every major player in the city is going to be in that room tonight.” I can hear the exasperation in his voice.
But wait a minute. Did he just say the Morozov event? That’s the kind of scoop that could actually make my career. Saying no to this is going to be hard.
“Fine,” I sigh, already mentally scanning my closet for something professional enough to blend in but practical enough to run in if things go sideways.
An hour later, I meet Sergei at the hotel’s service entrance. He looks me up and down in my simple black dress and gives a single approving nod. In a second, he tosses me a white apron and a clip-on ID badge that identifies me as staff, then points at my collar.
“There’s a hidden camera in the button, and Zoya for the love of GOD and my bank account. Don’t lose it or break it.”
Sergei doesn’t give me the chance to respond before pushing me toward the double doors.
The ballroom is stunning. Massive crystal chandeliers, marble floors that reflect the light, and a soft classical piece coming from one corner of the room. The audience is a mix of criminals and government officials who run the city’s underground. Grabbing a tray, I start moving through the crowd, trying to stay invisible.
I’m scanning the room, looking around like a thief about to steal, when I feel warm breath against my ear.
“Naughty girl.” The voice sends a shiver down my spine. “I thought I told you not to step foot at my property, Zoya or are you that desperate for me to punish you?”
I turn around slowly, and there he is, that dangerous smile already spreading across his lips. He motions to a passing waiter without breaking eye contact with me. “Take her tray.”
The waiter obeys immediately, leaving me standing there empty-handed.
“Well, well, beautiful. It seems we meet again.” His gaze travels slowly down my uniform. “You really are quite the entrepreneur. A photographer, an adult content creator, and now a waitress. You certainly keep yourself busy.”
The way he lists my jobs like they’re character flaws makes heat crawl up my neck, but I lift my chin and stare back at him.
“So what if I am? Can’t a girl make an honest living in this city? I’m a hard worker, and I have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“True.” He steps closer until his breath tickles my ear again. “But I did warn you, Zoya, not to set foot in my establishments again. Or did my threats seem harmless to you?”
