Birds of a Feather | | Leo Fitz Book One

Chapter 14

Entering the event was as much as what Asia imagined entering a prom would be like. She stood at the top of a large staircase, slowly making her way down (mostly due to the fact that her heels were a lot more complicated than she imagined them to be, if she was being honest). A few people turned to look at her, but not many. She blinked twice, quickly, and thanks to the geniuses in the lab, the contact in Monroe's left eye activated, and began to read the faces of the people in front of her. She slowly looked left to right, as "You Don't Own Me," by Grace, with G-Eazy, played lightly in the background. The crowd was all very youthful, around her age, and that made it only more difficult to find the man in question. She continued to scan, letting the little piece of sky equipment do it's work.

Suddenly, near the open bar, a small red circle blinked, and Asia knew the culprit had been found. Agent Monroe changed the direction of her walk and slowly wove her way towards the bar. "In sight," Asia whispered, in Russian, into her ear piece. Hopefully they had translations running back on the Bus, because she didn't plan on speaking a word of English unless it was an emergency. She could feel the eyes of a few men, and maybe a woman or two, on her as she moved, and their gaze put a confident smile on her face as she approached the bar, leaning against the shiny mahogany. "What's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?" She drawled in perfect Russian, taught to her by Natasha herself.

The bartender moved to polish off a glass for her when the shadow of a man beside her tickled her skin. "What does a beautiful woman like yourself want to drink tonight?" He asked in thick Russian.

Asia looked up into the eyes of the very man they wanted an smiled coyly. "Whatever you're having, Mister....?" She waited for him to fill the silence with his name.

"Chekhov, Maciej Chekhov," he replied, picking up her left hand and kissing it softly before releasing it. "And may I have the pleasure of your name?"

"Ayanna Volkov. What an honour it is, to meet THE Maciej Chekhov," she purred in Russian, "I cannot believe it is actually you, here, at this very party, talking to a little flower like me."

"Little flower, hmm?" He grinned, tucking a curl behind her ear, "So I take it you've heard of me?"

"Anyone who hasn't is a fool, or living under a rock," She replied, playing to his ego.

This comment only made his grin wider, and Asia knew she had used the right effect. He turned to the bartender and ordered two shots of vodka, and Asia would not have expected anything else from a Russian. The bartender obliged, pouring two perfect shots and setting them down in front of the couple.

The pair grabbed their shots and clinked them, just the tiniest bit of liquid overflowing, before throwing the drinks back and pounding the empty shot glasses onto the counter. The sharp burn of vodka hit Asia's throat, but she fought back any look of disgust. Natasha had taught her well.

"So, little flower," Maciej continued on, "What brings you to a party like this? Not that I'm upset you're here."

"Well if I'm being completely honest," Asia said with a coy little smile, "I'm here for you, Mr. Chekhov." There was no lie in this statement, though it was not in the same way the man in front of her would take it.

"Me you say?" A haughty smile flashed on his face, the kind which caused most girls to go weak at the knees. In all honesty, it was probably good Asia was still leaning against the bar. "Whatever do you mean by that, little flower? You're here for a dance?"

"Well," Asia said, batting her eyelashes, "A dance would be nice, but I also need to talk business with you, Mr. Chekhov." She smoothed out a few wrinkles on her lowcut dress, swaying from side to side slightly. "You wouldn't object to a little business chat while we talk, would you?"