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She swallows. “Dimitri and his girlfriend were attacked. They’re on their way here now.”
“His … girlfriend?” I say.
Ania shrugs. “I’m guessing that’s who she is. I don’t know why else Dimitri would be alone with a woman.”
The idea of Dimitri having a girlfriend seems alien to me, but then again, the idea ofmefinding a woman would’ve seemed the same not long ago.
“But he’s okay?”
“It’s Dimitri,” Ania says. “Of course, he’s okay.”
CHAPTER 9
MILA
It’s hard to be mentally present when Dimitri comes home. Mikhail and I return to the office; our date will have to take a raincheck. That’s where we are when Dimitri joins us. He quizzes us about our work and seems suspicious that I’m helping. Mikhail tells him, “She knows what she’s doing,” and that’s enough to make me sparkle like a naïve idiot.
I stare hard at the computer terminal, not letting myself turn and look at Mikhail. I know I won’t be able to stop. I’ll keep gazing and gazing like a loon. Something happened to us in the bedroom, something magical. It was like we were fusing, like the lust was turning into something else.
When I explain how we can use the phone records of the dead Serbian attacker—Dimitri killed one of the men sent after him—to find the address of the Sokolov guard who has Serbian connections when we see he’s not listed, Mikhail makes a soft, proud noise that has me wishing we were alone.
Dimitri seems suspicious, though. “He’ll use a burner,” he says of the Sokolov guard.
“If he’s used the same one, we can still track it,” I say, nerves twisting in my belly. It’s like, any second, Dimitri will sense what his brother and I did. It probably says a lot about this passion moving through me. The steaminess seems more important than the attack on Dimitri. That’s not fair, is it?
“How?” Dimitri says.
“Get the phone records of the dead man, his Serbian associate, then go down the call history and cross them off one by one. It’s worth a shot, at least.” The whole time I speak, I stare hard at the screen, not letting myself turn and see the pride in Mikhail’s eyes. That would melt me.
“Okay, do that,” Dimitri says. “In the meantime, I’ll check with the cops and see if the dead man has any tales to tell?—”
He cuts off when his cell phone rings.
“What’s wrong?” Mikhail says.
“It’s Nikolai.”
I suck in a breath, turning in the computer chair, looking at Mikhail to see savage protection draping every inch of him. Then I quickly turn to Dimitri, not wanting to make things obvious. Dad’s calling Dimitri after the attack. DidDadarrange the attack? It’s not like he’s above that sort of thing.
It’s so difficult not to think about all the evil things my father has done and all the pain he has caused. Dimitri says, “What a nice surprise.” Yet nothing could be further from the truth. There’s nothing nice about Dad. I don’t have any of that confusion that seems to grip the Sokolovs abouttheirfather.
“Generally speaking?” Dimitri goes on. “I’m fine.”
Dad says something, and then Dimitri glances at me with gritted teeth. I wonder if Dad’s talking about the wedding, about selling me so he can stake a claim to Vegas and start carving up more business, more people, and more pain to fill his bank vaults just a little more. “We’re still working out some details. You’ll hear from me soon.”
There’s another pause, and then Dimitri says, “Do you want to speak to her?”
I shake my head urgently, my heart suddenly picking up speed when I think about speaking with that man, but I should. I need to see how Drake is doing. Dad would lie anyway, even if Drake were suffering more than he ever has. Dad would find a way to twist it, justify it, and make it seem like the only option. That’s his specialty, after all.
Dimitri hangs up, then asks Mikhail, “We good to go?”
“We’ll keep working.”
“Good. I’ll call the cops. Nikolai better hope these breadcrumbs don’t lead back to him.”
Dimitri looks at me like he’s about to say sorry. “I hope theydolead to him,” I say.
If Dad has tried to hurt the Sokolovs, it would give them justification to take Dad out. I harden my heart when I think about that. I don’t need to let any silly thoughts interfere, like the ridiculous prospect that Dad would somehow develop a conscience or the ability to love. That hasn’t happened yet, and I have no reason to believe it ever will.
