The Dark Duet by Kasonndra Leigh Page B

Shame slams into me as I think of the way I left Alese lying inside of that room back in Burkentstein’s laboratory. She needs to hate me. One day she will, I am sure.
    With a great deal of effort, I turn back to the dancers. “That will be all for the day.”
    “But, Signor Belikov, it’s too early. We are just about to finish learning the end scene,” Paolo says, his dark eyes pleading.
    “I said we are done,” I repeat, reminding him I’m the one in charge.
    “We’re nowhere close to perfecting Act 1,” Paolo chides. He has his hands tossed out to the sides and his dark features are all screwed up.
    “It can wait until tomorrow. Now deal with it,” I scold, gathering my laptop and heading toward the hallway leading to the offices upstairs. I need a drink. Something strong. Something hard. Although I won’t look her way, I can feel Alese staring at me.
    Crow catches up to me as I leave the auditorium. “Everything all right, Kolya?” he asks.
    “I’m perfectly fine. Never felt better,” I lie, slapping his shoulder and then moving on.
    I storm through Inamorata’s exit doors and head out to the Audi, my mind wrapped in rotating visions of Adriana and the woman formerly known as Alestasia Broussard, an ex-CIA agent with a mind fucked over by a madman.
    Why a woman? Why now? Or maybe I should be asking myself why this particular woman? The one holding a sledgehammer, even though she doesn’t realize she holds the weapon, the only one that could tear down my house ... or in this case, everything I’ve worked hard to achieve.
    I head back to the penthouse and prepare a glass of the strongest White Russian I have ever concocted.

    ~Nikolai~
    As soon as I walk through the penthouse’s doorway, I sense something different, a presence in the air. Two men step through the doorway leading into my kitchen area, drinks in hand as though I invited them over for a friendly discussion on my dime. It’s Gash and an unknown accomplice. Assholes. Nothing pisses me off more than feeling like someone has violated me in some way or other.
    “Gentlemen, do make yourself feel at home,” I say sarcastically as I set my belongings down and head toward the bar they’ve turned into a personal retreat.
    “Well, don’t you look precious standing there in your skirt?” Gash teases, cracking his knuckles and laughing as he does so. The partner—one of those types who remind me of Mickey Rourke during his earlier days—chimes in, laughing too hard in his efforts to support his Gash’s stupidity.
    “Shut up, Sparky. It ain’t that funny,” he says to the second man, and his laughter fades at once.
    I know they’re here to check on my progress with Alese, which frustrates me. I’m not accustomed to being babysat. However, I also know Burkenstein is using her and there’s a deeper reason for choosing an ex-CIA agent, but I can’t figure out what it is. I will take Burkenstein down, but I have to find a way to get more information about his boss first. This visit, although extremely annoying, has ripped my mind back to the original goal: to find Vladimir.
    “Did I just hear you call him Sparky? Oh, this is too good. Sparky and Gash,” I repeat, unable to control the laughter bubbling up from inside of me.
    “Yeah, what’s so fucking funny about our names?” Sparky asks, bristling up. I glance his way. He’s young, probably in his early to mid-twenties like Alek, Crow, Alese, and me. “I know some funny shit, too. Something about your name, and why they call you the Phantom.”
    Apparently, he’s full of himself, overconfident in his newfound company of killers; enough to believe he can challenge a psycho like me. I turn around slowly to face him.
    “Careful, Sparky,” Gash warns.
    “What do you think you know, wet boy?” I ask, all traces of my grin gone now. Sparky straightens up and steals a quick glance at Gash. I can tell he’s thinking of a comeback. He’s about to lose face in front of his mentor, and