Page 62 of Vow Of Fire

I darted away from the window and went to sit on the couch. No, too informal for a strained discussion. The kitchen table would be better. I’d just sat down when the door opened and the two men strode in.

“Evelyn, this is Nico.” Dante turned to his brother but threw a backward nod at me. “This is Evelyn.”

Nico’s gaze landed on me and my breath hitched. I couldn’t help but appreciate the similarities. They were both tall and well-built—although Dante was broader—with chiseled features and hard, firm jawlines shadowed with stubble. But where Dante’s eyes were a stormy gray, Nico’s were cobalt blue. And right now, they were fixed on me with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity.

“Hi,” I said, unable to think of anything better to say. It wasn’t like this was a social meeting, or even a business one. I was the prisoner, the one desperately trying to prove my innocence so they wouldn’t kill me. I was fighting for my life here.

He nodded and pulled out a chair. Shrugging his backpack off, he set it on the floor and sat down. Dante did the same.

I swallowed nervously and waited for someone to say something. Nico was supposed to help us look into the payments from the unknown Central American sources, but by the way those suspicious blue eyes were boring into me, I got the feeling he’d already made up his mind. Paranoia obviously ran in the family. Occupational hazard, I guessed.

Dante nodded to me. “Tell him what we found.” Then reached for the water and took a long drag.

My mouth suddenly felt like it was full of cotton wool. He hadn’t warned me he was going to make me speak.

Nico raised an eyebrow at his brother. “You want her to brief me?”

Her? Like I was nobody.

Dante lowered the bottle with a shrug. “She knows the gallery side better than I do. Tell him, Evelyn.”

I lifted my chin. For once we agreed. I absolutely knew my own business better than anyone else. I took a deep breath.

“Up until last week,” I began, thinking about how blissfully ignorant I’d been back then. It wasn’t even that long ago. So much had happened in such a short space of time. I gulped and started again.

“Up until last week, I thought my gallery had a handful of legitimate high-net-worth clients and one or two questionable ones. Since you used an intermediary, I had no idea the Marcellis were one of them. No offense.”

“None taken,” Nico said dryly.

“But after Dante and I started going through the records, we realized it isn’t just your family running money through my company. There are at least two other parties using the gallery as a front.”

Nico’s gaze sharpened and he turned to his brother for confirmation. Dante gave a tight nod. “It’s true.”

Nico exhaled. “I’m going to need names.”

Dante answered before I could. “Sergei Malakov.”

Nico didn’t move. His face stayed perfectly neutral. I watched his thumb stop, mid-tap, on the strap of the backpack at his feet.

“The Bratva,” he said.

Dante gave a nod.

“For how long?”

“Best estimate, a year. Maybe longer. Also via shell companies, but linked to Russia.” Dante’s jaw worked. “They’ve been using her, just like we have.”

I felt my face grow hot with indignation. I felt like such a fool. I still couldn’t believe I hadn’t realized this was happening. But then, I’d trusted Vincent.

It had been stupid and naive of me. I clenched my teeth together. Never again. If nothing else, this little experience had opened my eyes to what the world was really like.

Everybody used everybody, and in this scenario, I’d been the pawn.

Nico gave a low hiss. He didn’t curse, but then he didn’t need to. The look on his face told me exactly how he felt.

“Then there’s the Central American buyers,” I said, wanting to steer them away from Malakov. There was history there, I got it. A family feud, two opposing crime syndicates vying for authority. A glorified pissing contest, in my opinion, but one capable of erupting into violence. And I didn’t want that.

I’d actually liked Malakov when I’d spoken with him on the phone. He’d been charming, polite, and interesting. All while using me to launder his organization’s money.