Page 53 of Dark Angel
Before she could smack it down, one of the new employees said, “You look excited to start new job.”
She regarded the short, middle-aged man with thinning hair and a pleasant smile. Even though he spoke softly, she heard his Russian accent.
“I’m Grigori.”
“Minka.”
“Have you had chance to see city?” he asked. “Museums are free!”
Been too busy screwing my mark.
“I just got here,” she replied. “You?”
“One week,” he said.
Natasha—flanked by four—walked to the top of the short staircase that separated the expansive lobby from the first floor where her and the ambassador’s offices were located.
“Good morning,” Natasha called out.
A silence fell over the chatty group.
“I’m Natasha, social director, or better known as Director of Everything.”
She is definitely full of herself.
Her four attendants broke into energetic applause while the group of newcomers clapped politely. Natasha spent the next ten minutes talking about herself. Her various jobs, her importance, how she was involved with a list of projects that went on and on… and on. She made herself sound so grand, Halston wondered how Ambassador Bulgrov would adapt toher.
Or if they’ll butt heads.
Halston was mindfully aware that Bulgrov had a big ego. So, she stroked it. Staying on his good side meant he kept her on the inside. That was what Langley wanted, so that’s what she did.
“Time for tour,” Natasha boomed. “I’ve got busy morning, so we will be short.”
The embassy was toasty warm, so Halston draped her black winter coat over her arm. The group fell in line as their tour guide—the Queen of Everything—pointed out several paintings, discussed the history of the building, touched on her own history and her quick rise to power.
While Halston didn’t care, she did listen. Even if Natasha’s power was self-perceived, she was involved in a vast assortment of goings-on. Though Halston would be pressed for time, Natasha would be someone to get to know.
Especially since her fiancé was killed by a mafioso.
The tour ended in the cafeteria on the lower level.
“Breakfast today is from embassy,” Natasha announced.
Since Halston had eaten at the hotel restaurant—appreciating the delicious over-easy eggs, turkey sausages, and small bowl of oatmeal—she poured herself a coffee.
There were four large TVs mounted on the wall, so Halston made her way over. Natasha stood nearby, head down on her phone. When she looked up, she made eye contact with Halston.
“You’re… we met last week.” Natasha’s phone binged and she glanced at it.
We met last night.
“I’m Minka. How are you doing?” Halston asked.
No response from Natasha.
“I was with you when you got the horrible news about your fiancé,” Halston said.
“This is nightmare. I would take week off, but embassy comes to stop without me. Did you find place to stay?”
