第一章 (3-2)

“But that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” America stopped in front of him, so close Soviet could smell his expensive cologne. “I’ve been watching you. All that brutal efficiency. That terrifying focus. It’s a fucking masterpiece. And I’m a man who appreciates fine art.”

America reached out, his fingers brushing against a strap on Soviet’s vest. Soviet didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened, a muscle twitching dangerously.

“You lured me here under false pretenses,” Soviet stated, his cold blue eyes fixed on America’s smug face.

“I incentivized you to come to a place where we wouldn’t be interrupted.” America’s hand moved from the strap to cradle Soviet’s jaw, his thumb stroking the stubbled skin. Soviet’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. The contract, the money… it was a chain.

“I am not for sale in this way.”

“Everyone is for sale, comrade,” America purred, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s just a matter of finding the right price. And for you? I’m willing to pay a fortune.”

He leaned in, his lips hovering inches from Soviet’s. “So, what do you say? Let’s negotiate.”

Soviet remained frozen for a long moment, the war between his professional pride and a dark, unwelcome curiosity raging behind his stony expression. Finally, his hand came up, not to push America away, but to grasp his wrist. The grip was firm, almost painful.

“You will double my rate,” Soviet growled, his voice thick with a mixture of contempt and something else. “And you will not speak.”

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