Chapter 278: So who is It?
{TYLER}
I think Sasha is as surprised as I am that he was actually capable of letting me be part of the plans tonight. But as we ascend the stairs, hand in hand, he leans down to my ear. "Well done, baby."
I squeeze his hand and press my shoulder into him, basking in his praise. "Same," I whisper back at him, and he gives a quiet snort of laughter.
One enemy down. One to go.
We are admitted into Magda’s private room with no trouble, although I have to blink a few times to adjust my eyes to the candlelight within. The room is small and intimate, and Magda is draped across a divan, dressed in an intricate, corseted costume of black satin. As we enter, she is holding up to her face an ornate mask at the end of a silver wand.
Her companion is curled up next to her on the divan, his head cradled in her lap. She strokes his hair as though he’s a favored lapdog allowed to accompany her wherever she goes. Maybe she’ll tuck him away in her handbag later on. His eyes are closed, and he seems to be fast asleep, but when I look closely, I can see those eyes crack open, just a fraction.
Together, the two of them look exquisitely elegant. Magda’s dark eyes appraise Sasha, looking him head to toe, and she says nothing.
Sasha bows his head and gives a polite and formal greeting in Italian. I keep my mouth shut.
She drops the mask from her face, letting it dangle at the end of the holding stick.
"Do you think I don’t know who you are, Don Adonis?" she asks in a rich contralto, and it doesn’t escape my notice that her reply is in English rather than Italian. "You think I didn’t know you at once at the opera last night? A face like yours is memorable—as is that of the little bird who flutters around you." Her eyes flick to me, and I feel compelled to remove my own mask. She gives a pleased little hm and smiles.
I smile back.