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“Considering you already mentioned it in front of her, you’re going to have to, Ruslan,” I snap. “Speak.”
He hesitates before clearing his throat.
“Alexei was in contact with Adrian Rossi a week ago. We have reason to believe he’s behind this. Considering he has the money and resources.”
My eyebrows rise. But it’s Lucia’s reaction that has my jaw tightening.
“No,” she says immediately, resolutely. “It’s not Adrian.”
Very slowly, I turn to look at her. “And why are you so sure about that?”
“I just know, okay? Adrian didn’t do this. I swear.”
Several seconds tick by as I stare at her. Then I’m looking at Ruslan.
“Get some men ready. We’re going to Rossi’s house,” I inform him.
“No!” Lucia repeats, moving so she’s in my line of sight. “Ivan, I need you to listen to me, Adrian has nothing to do with your brother.”
“How do you know that?”
She’s breathing heavily, her fists clenched. “Because I asked him about it. Yesterday.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask, my voice calm. “I really hate it when people lie to me, Lucia, so answer honestly.”
She swallows, her gaze shifty. My heart starts to pound and it hits me that she really is hiding something from me. I’ll be damned if I don’t get to the bottom of it.
“If Rossi’s plotting something with my brother, it’s because he has some sort of vendetta against me. You know what it is.”
“He’s not plotting with your brother,” she says tiredly, running a hand through her hair.
My brow arches. “But he has a vendetta against me?”
The way her eyes widen is answer enough. “He does, doesn’t he,” I murmur when she doesn’t reply. “What is it? What the fuck does he want?”
Lucia suddenly grows mute. It’s almost comical, the way her lips press together. My jaw clenches.
“I can find out on my own, Lucia. In fact, I’m going to fucking find out. And once I do, you’re not going to like what I do about it. Because not only are you defending another man in front of me, you’re also hiding something from me. What do you expect me to do about that?”
She releases a shaky breath, looking anywhere but into my eyes. She still doesn’t speak.
Fucking hell, what is she hiding?
“Just tell me, Lucia. It’ll be better if I hear it from you than from anywhere else,” I say, making my voice softer, trying to coerce her into telling me the truth.
Ruslan is still standing a few feet from us, still as a statute.
“He thinks—” She falters, her eyes welling with tears. The sight fills me with rage. Because I never want to see her crying. “He thinks you killed his mother,” she says, her voice nearly a whisper.
I grow rigid at the confession. “What?”
“Adrian told me that he had suspicions that you were responsible for his mother’s death,” she repeats.
“I see,” I murmur. “When did he tell you this?”
Again, she grows mute.
“Lucia,” I grit out.
