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“Pavel’s right,” Konstantin says, holstering his gun. “We have to go.” His eyes scan my body. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “I just need some ice for my ankle, antiseptic for my scratches, and a wrap for my ribs.”
“I have a doctor at home who will look at you,” Konstantin tells me and feels me stiffen at the word home. “Please, Izzy-B. All I ask is that you come with us to our safe house. Hear me out, and I promise you if you want to leave, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
I look at him, and while he seems sincere, I’m not sure I can trust anyone. But it’s getting dark, my body aches like hell, and right now, he’s the better evil of the two.
“Found them.” Pavel nearly scares the shit out of me, popping up behind Konstantin and holding the weapons I’d thrown away. I didn’t even see him walk past us.
Konstantin takes them, and we head back the way we came. Pavel is on high alert, looking for my locket. My heart hangs heavy, and I’ve almost given up hope that it will be found.
“Is this it?” Konstantin asks, holding up his hand to show the necklace.
“Yes.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
I’m about to take it from him but he closes his hand over it. “I’ll give it back to you when we’re at the safe house.” He tells me, handing it to Pavel. “Put it in a Faraday bag.” He looks at me. “Actually, little sister. I’m going to have to ask you for all your jewelry. Just until we’ve checked them out.”
I nod and hand him my watch, earrings, and gold bracelet. Pavel takes them while we get back to the car. Stacy and Davey are standing beside it, looking nervous.
“Fuck Isabella!” Stacy hisses, running forward, but I hold up my hand to stop her.
“I don’t want to talk to you or Davey right now,” I tell her, then order the dogs to jump into the back. “I’m riding shotgun,” I say, climbing into the front passenger seat.
Konstantin takes over the driving. Stacy climbs in beside him. Davey and Pavel squash me between them in the back. We’ve barely pulled back onto the road, and Stacy pops her head around the seat.
“Your father’s not who you think he is, Izzy,” she tells me.
“Why does everyone keep telling me that?” I ask, remembering Andrey’s words. You really don’t know who you or your father are, do you? Anger bursts through me again. “These past four days have been a lot,“ I grate. “I’m tired of the lies, being kept in the dark, and manipulated. So unless you want me to jump from this moving car again or push you all out of it, I suggest someone starts talking.”
“Marco Moretti doesn’t just defend the underworld, Izzy-B,” Konstantin says, glancing at me in the mirror. “He runs it.”
“No!” The denial escapes my lips. I remember how Andrey had started calling me princess. If what Konstantin had just said was true, it wasn’t in reference to me being his fiance and future Bratva queen—it was in reference to me being the king of the underworld’s daughter! “I don’t understand.”
“Your father is Mafia—the Moretti family mob boss,” Pavel gives me a clear picture of who my father is.
Chapter 15
ANDREY
I wake up feeling sluggish and heavy. My brain is wrapped in thick fog. My mouth tastes bitter, and my head pounds with each beat of my heart. I try to remember what happened, but my thoughts are scattered, fleeting images flashing through my mind like a broken reel of film.
Slowly, I push myself up from the chair. The room spins, and I have to steady myself against the desk. I take a deep breath and look around the room. The familiar walls of Marco Moretti’s office surround me, but something feels off.
I hear footsteps and tense but it’s only James. He’s carrying a large pitcher of orange juice and a bottle of aspirin. He looks at me, concern etched on his face.
“Andrey, you okay?” he asks, his voice sounding distant as if I were hearing it through water.
“Yeah,” I mutter, though I’m far from it, feeling like I’ve been anesthetized.
My mind is starting to clear, and fragments of the last few hours are coming back to me. I remember the vodka and its taste on my tongue. We were toasting. Isabella asked me to pour another round of shots, her eyes wide with something I couldn’t place at the time. And then I remember my body feeling like it was turning to jelly from the inside out.
A memory pierces through the haze. The green-eyed giant. A flash of steel. My father. I push off the desk, swaying slightly, and stumble toward his prone form. My father’s slumped back in a chair, his arm stretched out. Blood stains his sleeve.
Fuck I need to get something to clean it with. What did that motherfucker do to him? The world tilts and sways when I move, but standing still and breathing through the dizziness helps.
“Is there something to clean my father’s arm with?”
James nods, pulling a first aid kit from the tray with the juice and throwing it to me. “There you go. There should be disinfectant in there.”
