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“What do you want?” She was leaning forward, her face mere inches away from his. “There’s something you want,” she continued. “And you’re not telling me what it is. You’re using this whole friend thing as a veil. Well, stop it. Cut the bullshit, and tell me what’s really driving this whole act.”

  Ilya calmly held Sophia’s gaze, and it irritated her; he was too hard to read.

  “This isn’t an act.”

  Sophia scoffed. “Bullshit.”

  “No, really. I just want to get to know you.”

  “Why do you suddenly want friends?”

  “Not ‘friends’—a ‘friend.’”

  Sophia’s skepticism still hadn’t abated, but she was more confused than anything. “Why me?”

  Ilya hesitated for a moment before replying. “Everybody else here hates me.”

  “You want to be friends with me because I’m your only viable option?”

  The sandy-haired man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I know Davey doesn’t like me—and I don’t think Kristin is the sort of person who a man can become friends with and not find himself soon in her bed.”

  A small smile crept onto Sophia’s face. His opinion of Kristin was spot-on. But he still hadn’t told her what she wanted to know. The smile on her face disappeared as she scrutinized the confusing man opposite her.

  “Let me rephrase my earlier question: why do you suddenly want a friend?”

  The intensity of Ilya’s gaze caused Sophia to shift uncomfortably in her seat as well.

  “This life gets lonely.”

  Sophia’s eyebrows flew up in disbelief. “That’s it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes…”

  Sophia threw her hands up; she’d obviously hit the wall that all the Members put up at some point. But did she really have to hit it this soon?

  “I can’t do this right now.”

  Ilya’s eyes widened in alarm. “What? Why?”

  Sophia shook her head as she gathered her things and put on her cover-up. “You’ve been here for two years and you suddenly just realize this life gets lonely? I don’t buy it.”

  “Sophia, just stay.”

  Sophia grabbed the wrist of the arm he had extended towards her and pushed it away. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she began walking out of the room. She could hear the sound of Ilya’s footsteps behind her and quickened her pace.

  “Just wait!” he called out.

  But she ignored him.

  Ilya went on. “There must be something I can—“ He stopped in his tracks.

  Sophia stopped as well. Lund had appeared behind the glass doors at the far end of the pool.

  Ilya muttered something that Sophia couldn’t understand and walked back to the other end of the room. He looked weirdly agitated. Sophia wasn’t happy to see Lund either, but Ilya’s reaction surprised her…it wasn’t like Lund hated him. She was probably the only one the Swedish handler hated.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the glass doors. “Hello.”

  Lund obviously had no time for formalities. “Norbert wants to see you.”

  “Again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  Without any more explanation, Lund pressed the elevator button behind him and turned his back to Sophia.

  Sophia tugged uncomfortably at her terry cover-up. When Norbert had asked to see her the other day, she’d been surprised. Lund was almost always the one who briefed her on jobs. She’d put it down to the fact that perhaps Norbert wanted to keep a close eye on all the members of Occidis after Simon’s death.

  Now, he had asked to see her again. The words Robert Ingram had said to her the day before circled in her mind: “You know what The Org does to people who start slipping…”

  A chill ran down her spine as she stepped into the elevator. She and Lund stood in their usual silence as the elevator descended. Sophia felt like her heart was going to pound its way straight out of her chest. She shot Lund a glance, wondering if he could hear. But his stone-cold expression didn’t change.

  The elevator doors slid open to reveal the fifth level, Norbert’s personal floor.

  The Danish billionaire’s style was very…eclectic. The theme of his floor seemed to be “yellow.” Everything apart from the glass windows and walls was yellow. All the furniture, accessories, and tech in his residence were bright yellow. There were also generous helpings of tiny potted succulents spread out in bizarre places; half of the coffee table was covered in them.

  The overall effect was almost grotesque, and Sophia cringed as she sat down on the sofa.

  “He and Dr. Roth will be here in a minute,” said Lund, stepping back into the elevator.

  “Dr. Roth is coming, too?” A wave of panic swept over Sophia. If the doctor was coming to the meeting as well, then it must be an evaluation.

  The only reply Lund emitted was a sigh as the elevator doors slid closed.

  Sophia pulled her legs up to her chest and made herself compact, shying away from her garish surroundings. Today, she hadn’t taken any of the new medication she’d been given—and she was beginning to feel like she needed it.

  It seemed like an hour before Norbert and Dr. Roth appeared.

  “Sophia,” smiled Norbert, his unnaturally smooth face lifting to reveal bleached teeth. “How are you, my dear?” His voice held only a slight accent. He lightly kissed her on both cheeks before settling down in the armchair across from her.

  Sophia almost got a headache from looking at his smile. It was brighter than the room.

  “Hello, Sophia,” said Dr. Roth, as he sat down on the opposite end of the sofa.

  Despite the uncertainty his attendance carried, the doctor’s presence was calming. Sophia unraveled herself and slowly let her feet touch the ground. She could feel Norbert’s small, hazel eyes studying her intensely, even though the smile was still plastered on his face.

  “There’s nothing to worry about, I assure you,” said Norbert, crossing his long legs.

  Sophia didn’t reply. When speaking with the head of The Org, it was always wise to tread carefully. Although Norbert almost always put on the façade of being good-natured, one wrong word could crack his shell and reveal his volatility. Sometimes it was best to say nothing.

  Dr. Roth cleared his throat. “Norbert’s simply been taking steps to personally supervise the Members while we deal with what happened with Simon.”

  “Yes, I want to make sure that you are doing fine,” Norbert nodded. “Which, of course, you are.”

  He leaned forward. “I do know of the little ‘issues’ you’ve been having though, my dear. It’s not a big deal, of course, but Dr. Roth has consulted me, and there’s simply going to be a little bit of a change for your next job.”

  Sophia felt her stomach sink. They were probably going to find a nice way to phrase the fact that they were going to send her to her death. She braced herself for the worst. “A change?”

  “Yes, you see, there are going to be two jobs—one in Spain, one in France—on two consecutive days. We have decided to send you and Ilya on these jobs together.”

  “What?”

  “After consulting with Dr. Roth, I have realized it isn’t good for the Members to be sent out alone right now. You need each other in this time of grief.”

  The relief that Sophia would have felt was wiped out with indignation in knowing that their reason was bullshit. First, she had to deal with Ilya, and now this?

  “Guess that explains why we haven’t seen much of Kristin recently,” she muttered. Her sarcastic words seemed to linger in the air during the minute of silence that followed.

  Dr. Roth awkwardly pushed his glasses up his nose. “Sophia—“ he began, but Norbert cut him off.

  “Kristin is going through some much-needed therapy, as you very well know.”

  “She can go through therapy without being isolated from her friends.”

  Norber
t’s eyes narrowed. “Her current fragile state means she’s not in a condition to see anyone right now.”

  Sophia gritted her teeth. It didn’t matter if she pissed them off anymore, she knew she’d gone as far in the Program as she could. “On the contrary,” she said. “Her fragile state means she’s not in a condition to be alone right now.”

  Norbert let out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you suggesting you're a better authority on this situation than Dr. Roth?”

  “Dr. Roth may well be considered a leading authority on this subject, but I speak from experience.” There was no respect—and much contempt—in Sophia’s voice for the man sitting across from her, and it irked him. She turned her head to the doctor. “Keeping me away from the rest of the Members was the worst possible thing you could’ve done for me after Colin died.”

  Dr. Roth shifted uncomfortably and pushed his glasses up his nose again. He looked at Norbert with an air of helplessness.

  The fake smile reappeared on the Danish billionaire’s face. “Let’s get back to the real purpose of this meeting.”

  Sophia was on her feet now. Every muscle in her body was visibly tense. Both Norbert and the Doctor slid back in their seats, as if afraid of the weapon they created.

  “Oh, about how you think Ilya and I can’t be alone right now cause we’re grieving? When Kristin is the one who actually shouldn’t be alone? Yes, please continue.”

  “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, Sophia.” Norbert’s voice was low and disappointed.

  Sophia clenched her fists. She wasn’t usually so bold, but she wasn’t about to let Kristin go through what she had without putting up a fight. Perhaps it was better to step back, though; there was always the possibility of Norbert punishing Kristin for Sophia’s actions. She took a deep breath before speaking again. “Well, you should think more of Kristin’s well-being than of Ilya and me right now.”

  “We’re not worried so much about Ilya,” said Dr. Roth. His tone was gentle, but his words struck Sophia. They were worried about her.

  Norbert’s shell was starting to crack. “There’s the matter of your little ‘issues,’” he sneered. “Your behavior has been sub-par recently; you need supervision.” The lanky Danish man rose with an air of finality. Suddenly, Sophia realized the full purpose of Ilya accompanying her.

  Her voice sunk to little more than a whisper. “You’re going to have him report on me, aren’t you?”

  That’s why Ilya had been trying to get close; Norbert and Dr. Roth had asked him to feed information to them.

  Norbert was almost out of the room, but he turned and fixed his gaze on Sophia. “Precisely.”

  7

  Sophia lifted her face towards the breeze that broke the hot Spanish air. She and Ilya were sitting in a dimly-lit restaurant in Madrid. A plate of churros and two cups of chocolate sat on their table which overlooked the cobbled streets. Her garb consisted of a pale blue maxi dress and brown leather belt, his of a navy polo and white shorts. Sophia’s cheek had healed up enough during the past few days for her to cover the remaining scratches with makeup. It was 12 a.m., but people enjoying a late dinner filled the restaurant. To any passerby, they simply looked like a couple enjoying a snack, but they were there for business.

  Ilya leaned forward and gently took Sophia’s hand, but directed his gaze behind her. “His food just arrived.”

  Sophia casually picked up a churro and swirled it around in the chocolate. “I don’t see why we can’t reverse our roles in this.”

  “He’s already checked you out three times in the past ten minutes. It wouldn’t work. Leave it to me.”

  Sophia quickly withdrew her hand from his and sat back. It was bad enough that she had to work with Ilya on this job, without him taking charge of the whole thing.

  “Wait about thirty seconds and go,” said Ilya. His voice was quiet, but it held too much command for Sophia’s taste.

  With a sigh, she took one last bite of her churro and stood up. The man they were targeting was Abran Rodriguez, a successful Spanish businessman who was known for being a cutthroat narcissist. Unlike most of the country’s population, when he ate out he was usually alone—and that held true tonight. Sophia knew she captured the middle-aged man’s attention as she passed his table. She took five steps past him, before falling to the ground. He immediately rushed to her assistance.

  “Estas bien?” he asked.

  “Lo siento,” said Sophia, adjusting her dress. “I’m fine.” A slight pink tinge appeared in her cheeks as she realized she had attracted far more than just Abran’s attention.

  She saw Ilya get up and rush towards her. He bumped into Abran’s table and used one hand to quickly empty the vial into Abran’s drink while he grabbed the table with the other to steady it.

  But the Spanish businessman was too busy looking at Sophia with intrigue to notice the scene that occurred in the background. “You are American?” asked Abran.

  “Yes,” nodded Sophia, “I’m just visiting with my boyfriend.”

  Ilya shouldered his way past Abran and put an arm around Sophia. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine.” She turned to the man who was now looking at Ilya with no small amount of distaste. “Thank you again,” she said.

  With a dissatisfied grunt, Abran sat back down at his table. Now, all that was left was to wait and make sure their plan worked.

  “I’ll meet you back at the table,” said Ilya, offering her a quick glimpse of the empty vial in his hands.

  Sophia felt a small surge of relief; as much as Ilya annoyed her, at least he was efficient. She continued towards the back of the restaurant; there were still more eyes on her than was ideal. As she pushed open the bathroom door, her dress caught on a splinter of wood in the doorway.

  “Damn.” She impatiently tugged at the blue material, and it ripped— way too much. Now, the better part of her leg was exposed. With a low growl, she crossed to the sink and splashed water on her face. Spending the day with Ilya and his unending friendliness had left her on edge. In addition to that, she was used to working alone. She didn’t need or want Ilya, yet here he was—smiling at her while reporting every little detail of her behavior to Norbert. The meds did nothing to abate her frustration.

  She gently wiped her face and took a deep breath before going back to the table.

  Ilya nodded towards the tear. “What happened there?”

  “Nothing.”

  Ilya’s eyebrows shot up. “I can see like half your thigh.”

  “So?”

  “I’m just saying—“

  Sophia cut him off. “How much time does he have left?”

  Abran’s consumption of the paella in front of him was slow due to the generous gulps of wine he was taking.

  “At the rate he’s going at it, and taking into consideration the addition of alcohol—“ Ilya looked at the expensive timekeeper on his wrist, much to Sophia’s chagrin, “—about five minutes.” He picked up his cup of chocolate.

  The Rolex on Ilya’s wrist added to Sophia’s annoyance, and she crossed her arms. On the plane ride over, she’d noticed his luggage was Louis Vuitton.

  “Where do you get the money?” The words were out of Sophia’s mouth before she could help herself.

  Ilya froze, his blue eyes looking over the brim of the cup. “What?”

  Sophia leaned forward, her voice low. “You’ve got a Rolex on your wrist, Louis Vuitton luggage, and I bet nothing in your closet cost less than $300. Where do you get the money?”

  Ilya opened his mouth as if to reply, then shut it.

  “That’s just what I expected to get from you.”

  Ilya said something under his breath—too quiet for Sophia to hear.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, I have things in my closet that cost less than $300.”

  Sophia silently held his gaze. She noticed his face was flushed…was he embarrassed? Sophia shifted her focus back to Abran and cleared her throat. “Has it been five minute
s yet?”

  “No, it’s only been three,” said Ilya, sullenly.

  “I wish he would hurry up.”

  “Do you really mean that?”

  Sophia stared at the man across from her. “What kind of question is that?”

  Ilya calmly folded his hands and returned her stare. “Just answer it.”

  Sophia felt another wave of annoyance sweep over her. It could be considered a trivial question, but he was probably going to repeat her reply verbatim to Norbert. Obviously, she was going to have to be more careful about the words that came out of her mouth.

  “Of course I mean it.”

  “I see,” said Ilya. The look on his face puzzled her; was he satisfied?

  The sight of Abran’s swaying physique pulled her out of her thoughts. “It’s happening.”

  Ilya pulled out his phone and used its reflective surface to check behind him. “Right, go ahead and head out of the restaurant. I’ll join in a minute.”

  “Excuse me?” Sophia was indignant. What right had Ilya to boss her around? He may be reporting on her, but they were supposed to be equal partners on the job.

  Ilya set his phone down. “You’re excused.”

  Sophia defiantly stayed in her seat. She saw Ilya’s cheeks flush slightly again.

  Abran was still swaying. As soon as she saw him beginning to slump forward, Sophia grabbed her purse and discreetly walked out of the restaurant.

  She took a deep breath as she stepped out into the street. People were milling about, their countenances joyful from the alcohol they’d consumed and the company they were keeping.

  Sophia pulled a box of cigarettes out of her purse while scanning the surrounding buildings. There weren’t too many CCTV cameras in Madrid, but the street they were on was filled with busy restaurants and boutique shops. On the way into the restaurant, she’d noticed two cameras angled towards the entrance.

  A cigarette was always a good excuse to go outside without attracting much suspicion. She pulled one out of the pack and lit it.

  Slowly, she exhaled a cloud of smoke and leaned against a street lamp. The event from two days before kept replaying in her mind. It had been such an odd confrontation; she still wasn’t sure what to think of it. The thing that freaked her out the most, however, was the matter of how Robert Ingram was killed.