MOSCOW : TWO MONTHS AGO
Tonight Chrissie was dragging Ryan to an opera. Disjointed thoughts ran through his head while he sat on the bench at the end of their bed and waited for her to finish dressing. Chrissie pretended to be more sophisticated than she was. There would be a lot of people at the opera, but the only few that could speak English that he'd be around were her associates. They would rather shoot him than help him – several had actually told him that to his face, telling him if they ever caught him alone, that's exactly what would happen. Was it the fact Chrissie was crazy that kept them from keeping that promise? Or the fact she seemed to have connections worldwide and as crazy as she was, he secretly was impressed by how fast she could move drugs of any kind and any amount. She was an efficient drug dealer in the scariest way.
"How do I look?" Chrissie asked as she came out of the bathroom.
Ryan looked up. He would never tell her that before she kidnapped him, when he thought she was a normal girl, he was actually attracted to her. She was all curves and the dress she wore tonight – a black silk gown with red velvet accents – was quite attractive on her.
Ryan looked down without answering her. She walked over to the bench he sat on and sat next to him. She took his hand, watching his face.
"You can talk to me, honey. I wish you would. You're always so sad." She turned his wrist over, covering the scars there with her hand.
Ryan looked up when the maid came in with is suit coat. She laid it on the bed beside him and passed without a smile. But Ryan knew she wasn't as cold as she came across when Chrissie was around…