Chapter 1 - The Trap is Set
Roman Sokolov did not look at his beautiful bride.
He kept his cold, piercing eyes locked on Maya’s trembling hands.
The little girl was holding the cracked phone like it was a live grenade.
Elena took another step into the kitchen, her silk wedding gown rustling against the tile floor.
"Roman, darling, the guests are starting to whisper," Elena pleaded, her voice dripping with fake innocence.
She reached out to gently touch Roman’s arm.
Roman did not move, but his silence was louder than a gunshot.
He slowly turned his head to look at the manicured hand resting on his sleeve.
Elena’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second.
She slowly pulled her hand back, suddenly aware of the freezing temperature in the room.
"Give me the phone, Maya," Roman commanded softly.
It was not a request.
Maya looked up at the terrifying mob boss and carefully placed the cheap plastic device into his massive palm.
Roman read the threatening text message.
He saw the words that promised death to Sarah if Maya spoke the truth.
A terrifyingly calm shadow passed over his face.
"Julian," Roman said, not turning around.
"Yes, sir," the fixer answered smoothly, though a bead of sweat had formed on his forehead.
"Escort my lovely bride back to the hall," Roman ordered.
"Tell the band to play the grand entrance music in exactly ten minutes."
Elena looked relieved, thinking her act had worked.
"Of course, my love," she whispered, turning gracefully on her heels.
Julian followed her out, the heavy kitchen doors swinging shut behind them.
The moment they were gone, Roman’s entire demeanor changed.
He turned to his head of security.
"Viktor, the bride and the fixer are compromised," Roman said in a deadpan voice.
Viktor’s hand immediately went to the holster hidden under his suit jacket.
"Do we take them quietly?" Viktor asked.
"No," Roman replied, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light.
"If we take them now, we don't know how many other rats are hiding in my house."
He crouched down until he was at eye level with the eight-year-old girl.
"Maya, you are very brave, but I need you to do exactly as I say," Roman whispered.
Maya nodded slowly, her heart pounding in her ears.
"In ten minutes, I am going to walk out there and pretend to cut that cake," Roman said.
"I need you to wait in the shadows by the fireplace."
He pointed to a heavy brass poker leaning against the kitchen hearth.
"When I raise the knife, you take that poker, and you smash the cake before the blade touches the fondant."
Sarah gasped, grabbing her daughter’s shoulder.
"Mr. Sokolov, she is just a child, please don't put her in the middle of this!" Sarah begged.
Roman stood up, his towering figure casting a long shadow over them.
"It is the only way to expose the bomb without triggering a bloodbath before my men are in position."
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"I swear on my life, Sarah, no harm will come to you or your daughter today."
He turned and walked toward the doors, ready to face his own assassination.
