Chapter Thirty-four: Capture
Sydney couldn't take her eyes from her mother. The woman was older now, of course; a decade had passed since Sydney had last seen her. The years had been kinder to her than they had to Sydney's father. Her dark hair showed no signs of gray, though Sydney supposed that was probably thanks to dyes and hairdressers. More than anything, though, it was her posture and the expression on her face that commanded admiration and respect. Irina Derevko was past seventy, and she carried herself like a queen.
Sydney watched as Irina surveyed the room unemotionally, as if she were simply about to start a business meeting, though Sydney caught the flash of tenderness that flashed in her eyes as she regarded Jack, the flash of almost bemused interest as she looked at Michael.
The flash of hatred as she looked at her daughter.
It was that flash that prompted Sydney to speak first, though she knew it might be a mistake. She had never done so well in confrontations with her mother. "Where is my daughter?"
A slight smile flickered across Irina's face. "Be assured that she's safe and being well taken care of, Sydney."
Sydney clenched her hands into fists, willing herself not to lash out at her mother.
She should have taken care to see that Michael did the same, because it was he who leapt from his chair. "Where the hell is she, Irina?"
Sydney watched an almost predatory smile cross Irina's face as she approached Michael. "Michael, darling," she said, her voice soft, honeyed. "You're still looking well. Handsome."
Michael didn't respond, but he kept his eyes fixed firmly on her, not blinking under her unwavering gaze.
Irina's hand moved to rest on his shoulder, fingers dancing across the navy of his suit jacket. "Your father," she said, voice dangerously soft. "Never made it to your age."
Sydney didn't wait to see what Michael's reaction would be; she was on her feet, in her mother's face with out a thought in her head. She raised her hand to slap her mother across her face, but her mother caught her hand at the wrist.
"You might learn to control your temper, you stupid girl," she said, flinging Sydney's hand down. "Your daughter's life depends on it."
"Take me to her," Sydney demanded, fixing a glare on her mother.
Irina merely smiled, a cool, menacing smile. "Not just yet, Sydney. I think first you and I need to have a little talk. Alone."
Before Sydney could answer, Irina was fixing her cool smile on Sark. "Sark, dear. Take Michael and my grandson to the place we discussed."
"No!" Sydney lunged for them, but Sark stepped in front of her, his smile as cool and menacing as Irina's.
"You'd do well not to argue, Sydney," he said, in a voice that left no room for argument. "Your family's safety depends on it. As of the moment you walked into this building, you belong to us."
Irina snapped her fingers, and on cue, two burly men appeared from the hallway, one capturing Michael's hands behind his back, the other capturing Jack's. Sydney could only watch in horror as Sark led them away.
"Now, Sydney," Irina said, turning cool eyes on her daughter. "I think you'd do well to sit down."