Page 38 of Claimed By my Ex’s Uncle

"Watching you?"

"Yeah. Not like the other guards, not like he’s just keeping an eye on me," I continue. Ilya’s tone is prying, curious, and I wonder if he has any suspicions of his own about Sergei. "Like he’s... like there’s something he doesn’t trust about me."

I shift in my seat again. I can still remember the way the hair on the back of my neck stood up when he was watching me the other day, and how he kept his gaze fixed on the floor while Ilya claimed me in front of all of his men. I can’t see the connective tissue between all of it, but I’m not sure I need to. I just need to tell Ilya in the hopes that he’ll help me protect myself from whatever might be percolating.

"And what else?"

"When we were..."

I hate having to bring this up, the night he took me in front of his men. It feels like admitting I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened since it went down. But I have to think of the baby. It’s not just my life that I have to think of now, but my little one’s, and I am not going to let some awkwardness get in the way of that.

"When we were together, in front of all of your men," I continue as confidently as I can, though I’m sure he sees right through me, "I noticed that Sergei was the only one who couldn’t look at me. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I found it odd that everyone else wouldn’t look away—but he..."

I shrug.

"It felt like there was something he didn’t want to see."

I eye Ilya as I wait for a response, trying to gauge if I’ve gone too far, if I have crossed the line in pointing the finger at someone he trusts.

But then, slowly, he nods. "I see."

His tone is measured, careful, giving nothing away. I tangle my fingers in my lap again, trying to dissipate some of the tension rushing through me. I don’t know what to make of that answer. Is it good? Bad? A warning? A promise?

"If anything else happens," he continues, "come to me. I’ll tell the guards to give you direct access to me no matter what. Anything at all, you bring it directly to me, you understand?”

I nod. I don’t know if I should be relieved or not. I mean, sure, there is a part of me that’s glad he seems to be taking all of this seriously, but does he believe me? Believe that one of his own men could pose such a threat? If he does, he is containing it well, but then, that’s how I’ve always known him to be. Aside from those brief flashes of emotion when we’re together, when his want gets the better of him, everything he’s feeling burns out of sight where I cannot make sense of it.

"I will," I whisper. "I..."

I trail off. I don’t know what I want to say to him, if anything. I half-expected him to brush me off and tell me I was crazy for leveling doubts at Sergei in the first place. But I’m glad he seems to be taking my concerns seriously.

I rise to my feet, figuring that I got what I wanted. The longer I stick around, the better the chances that something else will spill out. Something that he’ll be less willing to hear from me.

"Thanks," I blurt out. And with that, I turn and head back to my room, my head still swimming with everything that’s just happened. Just when I think I’ve managed to figure out what’s coming next, where I stand in all of this, the ground shifts and everything threatens to pile on top of me again. I don’t know where this leaves me, but at least I have a direct line to his ear, a chance to bring any concerns directly to him.

When I reach my room once more, I feel the guards watching me, but I pay no attention to them. A wave of tiredness crashes through me, and I pull the door shut behind me as I flop down on the bed, catching my breath. I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or the stress or some combination of the two that has me so exhausted, but right now there’s nothing I want to do more than sleep.

Even if it feels like it will be impossible to switch my brain off long enough for that to happen.

Chapter 21

Ilya

Marcus pulls the door shut behind him, glancing out into the corridor before he joins me at his desk. Even if he’s worked with me for years, a cop in his position doesn’t want to be seen entertaining a visit from a man like me.

"Sorry," he mutters as he sinks down into his seat.

I lift a hand, dismissing his concern. "No need to apologize. I know what you’re risking, having me here."

He cocks an eyebrow, reaching for the coffee on his desk. He smells of cigarettes and looks as though he hasn’t slept in several days, but that’s to be expected. Marcus is an old-school cop, the kind who takes every case with deadly seriousness and will work through the night to make sure he brings the perp to justice. Which means that he has little contact with anyone outside of the force—no friends, no family—rendering him the perfect candidate to be my inside man in his world.

He has fed me information when I have needed it for more than a decade now. At first, he took hefty bribes to make it happen, but these days he practically counts me as a friend. I might get a few hard looks arriving at the station, but at the end of the day, I am a citizen just like anyone else in this city, and I have a right to meet with the people who are meant to be keeping our streets safe.

Even if I am the one they are so often keeping them safe from.

But today, it’s not about the potential targeting of one of my businesses or a particularly forthright prosecutor looking to make a name for themselves going through my old financial accounts. No, this is about Petar. Specifically, how the hell he seems to have made himself so welcome in my house these last few days.

Marcus reached out to me earlier this morning to update me on Petar’s case. It seems he has managed to make bail. Though he was meant to stick around and wait for the upcoming court date, he has taken off. Which leaves me with one hell of an issue.