“I’m good.” He could compartmentalise with the best of them. With one deep breath he tucked his emotions away to deal with later and concentrated on the task at hand—to be ready when Megan needed him.
Things were going much more smoothly than Megan had expected. The guards had taken her into their building, where they’d gone through her tiny clutch bag. They’d removed her phone, keys and wallet, but left the roll of bright pink tape (although that one got a confused look), the sparkly pink marker pen, the half dozen condoms and her red lipstick. The guard examined her cheap little MP3 player before tossing it back into her bag. It was a relief when she realised she wouldn’t have to argue to keep the thing.
Her bag was tossed through the x-ray scanner near the desk. A guy monitoring the screen studied it.
“All clear,” he said.
Slowly, the bodybuilder ran his eyes down the length of her body. “We need to check you out. Stand with your legs apart and your arms wide.”
He ran a metal detecting wand over her body without problem. He placed the wand on the desk behind him. The guy was big, and didn’t have much of a neck, but if she’d seen him in a nightclub she would have given him a second glance. Pity he was one of the bad guys.
“I need to check physically,” he leered.
Of course you do.
Feigning interest in him, she cocked a hip. “Be my guest.”
It took concentration to look relaxed when all she wanted to do was vomit at the thought of him touching her. What happened to chivalry? Wasn’t he supposed to find a woman to pat her down?
“Step out of your shoes,” the bodybuilder ordered.
When she did, he passed them to his colleague to be put through the scanner. Megan concentrated on the guy in front of her. His fingers wound through her ponytail. Looking for pins? She wasn’t sure. They trailed down her neck, over her shoulders and straight to her breasts—surprise, surprise. She worked hard to keep her body relaxed and a half smile on her face while he groped her in the name of security. And he was thorough in his groping. What he thought she was keeping in her G-string, she didn’t know. She forced herself to smile when all she wanted to do was kick his dick into next week. When this was over, she’d have to shower with Lysol. Even then, she wasn’t sure she’d ever wash the memory of his touch from her body. Instead of gagging, she tried to look as though his assault was turning her on. No point in making an enemy this early in her plan. As her mother always said—you catch more flies with honey.
When he’d finished, she resisted the urge to shudder and instead winked
at him. He handed over her shoes and bag. Deliberately holding on to his arm she put the shoes back on, she let her hand trail over him before she released him.
“Maybe later, when I’m finished with your boss, you and I could have a private meeting all of our own.” One where he helped her escape, maybe?
“I’ll escort you to Mr Abramovich,” the big guy said.
His grip was firm on her arm as walked her to the front door of the house.
“You must work out.” Megan batted her lashes at him. “I bet you’re just mouth-watering without a shirt on.”
The bodybuilder’s eyes darkened as he looked down at her. He opened the door and gestured for her to go on through. As she did, she glanced in the direction she knew Callum was perched and winked.
With a deep breath, she walked into the house.
Chapter Nineteen
The house was a palace. Marble and gold leaf everywhere, but still remarkably tasteful. Uniformed staff scurried about the place, dusting, carrying trays and generally keeping busy. Guards were posted at various points. There weren’t as many as expected. By the time she reached Rudi’s office she’d only counted four. They were dressed in black, armed and wired for communication. She pretended they didn’t exist for the most part, but smiled when one caught her eye.
A hand at her elbow led her through the house, past the staircase to a large wooden door on the right hand side. Another guard stood outside the door.
“I’ll take it from here,” he told her protector.
With a nod, she was handed over. Megan smiled at the bodybuilder as he left, hoping her flirting would help her get out of there later. Twenty minutes, that was all she had before the guys came storming in. A glance at the face of her cheap plastic watch told her she had nineteen minutes left.
The door swung open and Megan swallowed her nerves. Clutching her bag with shaking hands, she was led into the room. She reminded herself to swing her hips and act relaxed. Yeah. Not easy. Especially when, behind the vast wooden desk that dominated the room, Rudi Abramovich stood watching her, like a lion stalking prey.
After a moment, he nodded to the guard to leave and she was alone with him. His ex-wife had been right. When the women called asking for advice on how to handle this meeting, Hope had been certain Rudi would want to be alone with her. His arrogance wouldn’t allow him to see Megan as a threat. Hope said he’d want an opportunity to toy with her. That he always toyed with his prey.
Megan scanned the room as she faked nonchalance. It was decorated in blues and creams. Tasteful. Elegant. On the desk was a laptop. On her left, against the wall, was a cabinet that functioned as a bar. The top held crystal decanters of whisky. There were two sofas flanking a coffee table. French provincial—her brain supplied the style as her eyes skimmed the room. On the wall beside the desk were three monitors. One showed the interior of the guardhouse.
“I watched your entry.” Rudi rounded the desk. “I was expecting you to arrive with a colleague of mine. Dimitri Petrokov.”
Megan shrugged. “Dimitri had a little run in with a Taser. He’s currently locked in the boot of his car.” She leaned in to him and whispered. “Between you and me, I’m hoping he rots there.”