Page 24 of Kazimir

When I opened the door again, Nikolay was waiting, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes widened slightly when he saw me, and for a moment he looked so genuinely happy that I wanted to cry.

“Ms. Wade,” he said, “if I may say so, you look lovely.”

Nobody had ever said that to me without an agenda. “Don’t get used to it,” I said, but my voice cracked.

He pretended not to notice. “Shall we?”

I grabbed the little included handbag with gold connected “Cs” on the flap, stuffing in my prepaid phone and the seven dollars I had left from last week’s tips. He led the way down the stairwell, keeping a respectful two steps ahead of me at all times, like a bodyguard or a valet. At the curb was a black SUV, windows tinted so dark they reflected the brick and graffiti of my building back at me.

A driver stepped out, tall and bald and silent, and opened the back door for us. I slid inside, feeling the softness of the leather seats.

Nikolay followed, seating himself next to me, his hands resting on his knees. “It’s about a fifteen-minute drive,” he said. “If you need to make arrangements with your employer, you may use the car’s Wi-Fi.”

I stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

He looked confused. “About the Wi-Fi?”

“No, about—everything.” I pressed my head back against the seat. “Never mind. I’ll text Margie.”

Me: Margie, I’m sorry for the short notice, but I’ve been offered a new job that’s too good to pass up. Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you and Polk.

She replied within thirty seconds: I hope you find your happiness. I’ll miss you too.

I tucked the phone away and wiped away a small tear. It was only then that I realized how badly I must have wanted out for me to have said yes to this without even knowing the details.

I risked a glance at Nikolay. “Is it dangerous? The job, I mean.”

He considered it. “Not for you. My father is… particular about keeping those under his care safe.” He smiled. “You will find the environment stimulating. Many interesting people come through Obsidian.”

That was one way to put it.

We drove in silence; the city blurring past, my world shrinking to the size of this car, these borrowed clothes, this too-good-to-be-true promise. I tried to imagine what waited on the other side of this. A desk? A computer? Or a stone basement full of blood and secrets?

I didn’t know, but when the car pulled up in front of the club—its façade two large royal purple doors with gold veining—I stepped out and followed Nikolay without hesitation.

Inside, the air was cool, heavy with that purple light and a scent I couldn’t name. Amaya stood in the foyer, clipboard in hand. She did a double-take when she saw me, then nodded respectfully. We turned right and headed up the same stairs that Kazimir had taken me up yesterday.

Nikolay led me down a carpeted hall that opened into a large square reception area. He turned to me, his face solemn. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I said, and meant it.

He led me to the office with his name and mine engraved on the door.

The office was nothing like I expected. I figured corporate, sterile, maybe a little gothic. The space was large behind the door and held two offices. Mine was first. A carved wooden desk with a beautiful velvet chair dominated one side of the room. Plants and lamps gave a relaxing atmosphere. It backed up to a wall of windows, with a brand-new laptop propped open, facing two large monitors waiting for me. I ran my hand across the leather desk mat, and it left no trace; the surface was too perfect to hold fingerprints.

Nikolay hung back, letting me take it in. I caught him watching me, a smile just visible at the corner of his mouth.

“Is this… for me?” I said, feeling suddenly twelve years old.

“Of course,” he replied. “We want you to be comfortable. Productive.” He gestured to the door behind the desk. “Your bathroom is through there. Private, so you’ll always feel safe.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I doubt the other employees wouldn’t want me to sully their space.” I eyed the fridge. “Can I—?”

“It’s yours,” he said. “Eat what you like. Drink what you like. If you need anything else, call the number on your phone’s home screen. Our office manager, Clementine, will provide it. And Devon, no one will disrespect you here. You are one of us now.”

I looked down at my hands. The nails were bitten raw, but clean. I’d never had a desk job in my life. I’d never had a job that wasn’t hourly, or a shift, or “off the books.” I didn’t know what to do with myself except sit, so I sat. The chair gave a little, as if it had been tuned to my weight in advance.

Nikolay waited, patient as ever. “If you’d like, I can give you a tour of the floor.”