It was a bitterly cold night, but Nikolai looked quite pleased, wearing a luxurious tuxedo and leading Viktoria by the hand. She was wearing a sparkling silver evening gown, looking every bit the part of a frozen goddess, but inside her mind was completely blank. She managed to smile when Nikolai smiled and nodded when talking to his wealthy buddies, but it all seemed unreal, like a movie playing before her eyes.

"Can I excuse myself to use the bathroom?" she asked Nikolai.

He gazed at her intently, trying to gauge whether she was rebellious. "Don’t be gone too long, dear. The show is starting in ten minutes."

"I won’t," she assured him.

Nikolai’s two bodyguards followed her from behind but stopped outside the double doors of the bathroom which were covered in gold plates. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Inside, the bathroom was beautiful, all white marble and gold mirrors. Only one other woman was there. She was tall, wearing a simple black cocktail dress, and she was leaning close to the mirror, pretending to fix her lipstick.

Fiona walked over to the sink and switched on the faucet. Splashing cold water on her wrists, she attempted to shake off the daze that enveloped her.

"You have such an elegant dress," the lady in black remarked, smiling as she turned toward Fiona. "Does it come from a designer collection?"

Startled by the voice, Fiona blinked hard. "Thank you. Uh... I suppose. It was my husband’s choice."

"The man obviously has good taste," the lady responded, coming closer to her and opening her clutch bag. "It looks like you’ve got a bit of pallor in your cheeks, dearie. Could it be because of the hot weather inside the ballroom?"

"Just a little fatigue," Fiona answered.

"Well, I can lend you some smelling salts or maybe a perfume that always helps me feel refreshed," the woman offered, pulling out a delicate white handkerchief. "Smell its fragrance, it’s lavender. It will help you regain your energy."

However, before Fiona could respond, the lady acted swiftly. She held the handkerchief tightly over her nose and mouth. Startled by the action, Fiona’s hands shot up to ward her off, but they felt numb. The scent was overpowering, far different from lavender. Almost immediately, Fiona fainted.

The woman caught her before she hit the floor. "Got you," she whispered.

She dragged Fiona into a large handicap stall and locked the door. Working quickly, she pulled a bag out from under the sink where it had been hidden earlier. She stripped the silver dress off Fiona and pulled a plain, oversized tan trench coat over her. She shoved a dark wig over Fiona’s hair and put a pair of cheap sunglasses on her face.

The woman pulled out her phone and sent a quick text: It’s done. Come quick.

A minute later, another woman entered the bathroom. She was dressed like a high-end maid or an assistant. She walked straight to the stall and knocked three times.

The first woman opened the door. Together, they hauled the limp Fiona up, putting her arms around their shoulders.

"Ready?" the first woman asked.

"Ready. Make it look convincing," the second one replied.

The first woman opened the door, and they lifted the unconscious Fiona up and slung her arms around their shoulders.

"Ready?" asked the first woman.

"Ready," said the other one. "Try to make it look real."

They pushed open the bathroom door and staggered out into the hall. The guards moved towards them straight away, hoping to find their boss’s wife. Instead, they saw two women carrying a third woman who was dressed in a beige coat and wore a black wig.

The woman wearing the black dress raised her voice, sounding furious. "What was wrong with letting her have more than she should? We just arrived. I told her the champagne was too strong for her, but did she listen?"

The second woman added, sounding concerned. "Oh, Tanya, honestly! You’ll ruin everything. Look at you; you’re about to fall down. Let’s take her outside in case she vomits, she must not do it on the carpet, I can’t afford to clean it."

The guards looked at the woman in the trench coat. Her head was hanging down, and she was "muttering" nonsense. In the dim light of the hallway, and with the wig and glasses, she didn’t look anything like the woman they were supposed to be guarding. They thought she was just another drunk guest named Tanya.

"Have you seen the lady who went in there? Mrs. Volkov?" one guard asked, trying to look past them into the bathroom.

"A lady in a silver dress?" the woman in black asked, pretending to be impatient. "She went out the other door five minutes ago while we were trying to keep this one from falling into the toilet. She looked like she was in a hurry."

The guards looked at each other, panicked that they had missed her. "Go check the lobby!" one shouted to the other.

The two women moved as fast as they could without looking suspicious. They dragged Fiona through the side exit where a black van was idling. As soon as the doors closed, the driver took off.

They drove for ten minutes to a private helipad on the outskirts of the city. A sleek, black helicopter was waiting, its rotors already spinning, kicking up clouds of snow.

Nathan stood by the entrance of the chopper. He wasn’t dressed in a suit nor wearing a mask. He looked like a soldier, with his face tense and worried. The moment the van arrived, and the women dragged Fiona from inside, he approached immediately.

"Is she alright?" Nathan asked through the sound of the engine.

"She’s only knocked out, sir," one of the women said. "We followed your instructions; we didn’t give her too much of the drug."

Nathan carried Fiona into his arms, holding her up effortlessly. He bent down to look at her lifeless body. She was finally in his hands.

"We’re moving the funds into your accounts as we speak," Nathan said while staring at the two women. "And do another check in an hour; we’re tripling what you get. You’ve done a flawless job."

Their faces brightened with delight. "Thank you very much, Mr. Keith! Believe us, if you want us to kidnap or transport someone again, we can be of service anytime you need us."

Nathan remained silent as he boarded the chopper and settled Fiona on the leather seats beside him, covering her with a woolen blanket.

"Go!" he told the pilot.

The helicopter lifted off, tilting away from the lights of Moscow. Nathan held Fiona’s hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

"I’ve got you," he whispered. "I’m never letting go again."

They flew for less than an hour before landing at a small, private airfield. A white private jet was parked there, its engines whining as it prepared for takeoff. The flight crew was already waiting at the stairs.

Nathan carried her up the steps and into the cabin. It was a flying hospital room. Dr. Aris was there, surrounded by monitors and medical bags.

"You got her," Aris said, his voice full of relief. "Lay her down here, Nathan. I need to start the IV right away."

Nathan laid her on the bed in the back of the jet. As the plane began to taxi toward the runway, he watched Aris start the process of flushing the substance out of her system.

He looked out the window as Russia disappeared beneath the clouds. He was taking her home, finally.