Chapter 24
"Mrs. Ashbourne," Viktor Markov boomed, his heavy Russian accent cutting through the polite, American-accented conversations nearby. He reached out and grabbed Annie’s hand, kissing her knuckles with an exaggerated, aggressive flourish that bordered on assault. "Your foundation is a beautiful thing. Almost as beautiful as you."
Annie did not flinch. She withdrew her hand smoothly, wiping the back of her knuckles against the satin fabric of her gown in a subtle, dismissive gesture. "Mr. Markov. We appreciate your sudden interest in our philanthropic endeavors," Annie replied, her voice eerily calm, mimicking the terrifying, absolute control she had learned from her husband.
"I am a generous man," Markov sneered, leaning closer to her, trying to use his sheer physical size to intimidate her. "I have millions to donate. But my donations require... special routing. Confidential routing through your shell accounts. You help me, and your charity becomes the most powerful in the state."
May you like
Annie stared at him, her delicate cheekbones illuminated by the chandelier light. "Do you believe a foundation built by the Ashbourne family is desperate for foreign charity?" Annie asked softly, her tone dropping into a freezing register.
Markov’s arrogant smile faltered slightly. He had expected a submissive, naive socialite. He was looking into the eyes of a predator.
