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I blink. “My…what?”
“Your family. Brancovich. It’s…well, it was…their family crest. The hawk and arrow, in the circle of the sun.”
It’s like coming up for air after being underwater for a little too long. Oxygen floods into my lungs, into parts of my brain I still can’t access.
But at least now I can feel that they’re there.
Brancovich.
Is my name seriously Annika Brancovich?
But then, something else he says registers.
“You said it was my family crest.”
Drazen is silent.
“Are they…” I frown. “Do I have…”
“No,” he growls quietly. “They’re all dead.”
Even if I don’t know them, can’t remember them at all, aren’t even sure if this is real, a piece of me winces.
“Did you…” I hesitate, eyeing him.
“Some,” he mutters. “Not all.”
“My parents?” I whisper.
“Unfortunately, that wasn’t me.”
Unfortunately.
Jeez.
I take a deep breath, looking out over the azure Mediterranean.
“Okay,” I say quietly, nodding my head slowly.
“Is that your understated way of agreeing to our arrangement?” Drazen grunts.
“I have conditions?—”
“Think again.”
I turn to eye him. “May I finish?”
“It’s a waste of breath, but by all means,” he says dryly, absently waving a hand with a bored, amused look on his face.
“As I was saying,” I mutter. “I have conditions. For one, I’m not spending the next three months here.”
His lips curl. “As a matter of fact, you are.”
I shake my head. “How am I supposed to explain that to my colleagues? To the board?”
“That is, I believe, what is referred to as a ‘you’ problem,” Drazen says with a tight smile.
“I’m frankly amazed you’re still alive if you always exhibit this little foresight, given your choice of profession.”
