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“Painted quite the picture, did it?”
“Okay, cornball, but seriously…”
“The venue has had a bomb threat. Somebody got word that Nikolai Petrov would be in attendance, I guess. They called in a threat, stating Nikolai’s reputation as the reason. The issue is that only people who need to are the ones who know about this arrangement.”
“What are you saying?” She pauses, then says, “Wait, you think one of your men did it?”
“It was a woman,” I tell her. “On the call.” He lowers his voice. “Ania’s nervous about going, and she’s… impulsive sometimes. I can’t imagine Mila’s happy to see her dad.”
“What if it was somebody else? Maybe one of his men got one of their girlfriends or sisters to make the call?”
Dimitri grits his teeth. “It doesn’t make any difference who it was. I’ve got a specialist team heading there now—all ex-military. Whoever did this got what they wanted. It’s going to be a while.”
“Did what?” Ania says, appearing in the doorway.
I wanted to protect her, but what if itwasher? I study her face closely. “Somebody called in a bomb threat to theManor.” Its full name is theMoscow Manor,but she knows what I mean.
“Oh,” Ania mutters, blinking, and that’s it, giving nothing else away.
“What’s going on?”
Mikhail comes walking the hallway, his hands in his pockets. Mila appears a moment later. From the way they walk—Mila several steps behind, clearly on her own—it seems obvious to me Mikhail has no interest. I wouldn’t be able to hide my hunger for my woman. I wouldn’t be able to act as normal as he is, but he does it like it’s nothing.
“Bomb threat,” I say, looking at Mila, but she keeps her eyes on the floor. If they’re hiding something, both are doing a good job.
“Nobody planted a bomb at theManor,” Mikhail says in disgust. “It’s been vetted. Let’s go.”
“Easy. I’m having it swept. Anyway, arriving late isn’t a bad thing.”
It means Nikolai will be even more shocked. I’m not doing any half-measures. When we go in, it’s for the kill.
Mikhail sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s dressed in a more hipster-style suit.Stylish, I’d guess he’d call it. It makes him look like a lazy aristocrat, though he’s far from that. We all go into the living room, Mikhail throwing himself on the corner couch, sprawled out. Nobody says anything until Mikhail finally gets up and puts on the record player.
Classical music plays, and Lia smiles. “What is it?” I ask, finding it impossible to be in a bad mood when she’s around.
“This song… It was playing when…” She trails off when she realizes we’re all watching her. “A good time.”
“When?” Ania asks.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Go on,” she persists.
“I was painting… and I saw a friend.”
I smile, remembering it, her belly gurgling, the banter after.
“Excuse me,” she says, standing up. “I need to use the little girl’s room. That’s what rich people say, right, not toilet?”
I watch her go. She holds up her dress, making walking easier, revealing her short heels. My woman moves a bit awkwardly, making me want her even more. After she’s gone, Ania giggles, staring at me.
“What?”
“You know what,” she says. “The big bad scary Sokolov Pakhan is in love.”
“Ania,” I snap.
“Relax, brother,” Mikhail says, laughing. “It’s not like it’s a secret.”
