Petrov lifted his glass and took a sip. “Six hundred a bottle and worth every dime.” He smiled at the woman beside him. “The rosé is Sasha’s favorite.”

The blonde took a sip and made a little sound of pleasure in her throat. “Thank you, darlink.” Edge had noticed the Russian accent earlier. It definitely sounded real. He figured Petrov wouldn’t settle for a fraud, not even one who gave a better-than-average blow job.

They all sipped their champagne, which Edge had to admit was first class. Beluga caviar was brought out and served to enjoy with the bubbly. Edge wasn’t a connoisseur, not even really fond of the stuff, but he figured it was probably as extravagantly expensive as the liquor.

Petrov’s black eyes went to Skye, slid over the creamy swells of her breasts. He practically licked his lips. “Do you like it?”

Edge clenched his jaw. He noticed Sasha hadn’t missed Petrov’s interest either. Her tight lips said she wasn’t pleased.

“You have very good taste in champagne,” Skye said. “And the caviar is exquisite.”

“Thank you.” He set his crystal flute on the table. “First, we eat. Then we talk business.”

Orders were taken. Skye chose duck a l’orange, while Edge selected a peppercorn filet mignon. The salad was chosen by Petrov: cranberry, goat cheese, and pistachio. Every time Petrov looked at Skye, Edge’s appetite waned.

Their meals arrived. Like everything else, the food was extraordinary. Not surprising, Edge thought, considering the possible consequences if the staff failed to come up to Petrov’s exacting standards

Finally, dessert was served.

“Ptichye Moloko,” Petrov announced, a Russian cake of some kind. Lifting his fork, he took a bite, groaned in ecstasy, and waved the fork to indicate they should try it. Light, soufflé-like layers of custard and sponge cake were covered with a creamy chocolate sauce and, like everything else, tasted delicious.

“This is amazing,” Skye said, taking another bite.

Petrov seemed pleased. “It is a personal favorite.”

Thick black coffee arrived in gold-rimmed, white porcelain cups. The waiter cleared the dessert plates, then disappeared.

Petrov sat forward in his chair, his onyx eyes fixed on Edge. “Now we get down to business.” Dutch appeared in the shadows a few feet behind him, legs braced apart, hands crossed in front of him in bodyguard mode. “So you wish to go to work for me.”

Time to play the game. A quick glance at Skye said she was equally prepared for whatever came next.

“We have skills to offer that would benefit your organization,” Edge said.

“In return for substantial financial compensation,” Petrov added.

“That’s right. Unless you can’t afford us. Your labs in Colorado and New Mexico both just took very big hits. Could be money’s tight right now.”