Page 131 of Twisted Temptation

She talks fast as she leads me into the fitting room, the private space behind the showroom where she takes all her measurements. Before we disappear through the door, she puts a palm on Freddie’s chest.

“No, you wait here. This is women’s business.”

Surprisingly, Freddie listens, and I have to hold back a chuckle because Irina the Tornado is tiny next to Freddie the Tank, yet he seems terrified of her.

Inside the room, I see the fabric sitting on the table.

"Oh my god, Irina. It’s beautiful."

The silk is so fine it's almost sheer, and the gold threads woven through it catch the overhead light and scatter it in tiny sparks.

I reach out and touch it, and it’s so impossibly soft, it’s like touching water.

"Oh, I’ve never felt anything so soft."

"I know."

"This is⁠—"

"I know." She's smiling, but it seems a little forced.

I look at her, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can’t put my finger on it, but something doesn’t feel right. She seems distracted. On edge.

"Irina, are you okay?" Her eyes are glassy, and her fingers fidget with the measuring tape, twisting it into knots and then untwisting it again.

"I’m fine," she says a little too fast. "I'm fine. Here, let me take your measurements."

She gestures for me to stand on the small wooden platform. I step up and look at her in the mirror.

"You seem a little restless."

"I'm fine, solnyshko. Arms out."

I raise my arms. She wraps the tape around my bust, and I notice her hands are shaking.

"Irina."

"Hold still."

"Your hands are shaking."

She doesn't answer. In fact, she can’t meet my eyes.

My stomach drops.

"Irina. Look at me."

She won't.

Instead, she looks at the door to the back hallway.

"Irina, what’s going on?"

My gut begins to tingle, and when I hear commotion on the other side of the door, a surge of panic sweeps through my body.

The door opens, and two men step through. I recognize them immediately. Anton Grazalov and his sidekick, Flynn Lemar.

If you ever see these men again, you run.