Page 50 of The Beast of Moscow

Being straightforward almost always got Vera everywhere.

Alexi chuckled, his brown eyes crinkling at the edges a bit as he did so. “Just to have a chat. If you’ve got a minute, I mean. Then, I’m out of here, and you won’t have to worry about me again. Promise.”

Those few crow’s feet around his eyes, and the bit of salt peppering his dark, short curls were the only signs the man had aged or changed since she saw him last. He still preferred his jean jackets, matching ripped denim pants, and combat boots considering his current outfit.

“You turned thirty-six this year, right?”

“Thirty-seven.”

Vera nodded. “Right, well, do you want to come in for a minute?”

Alexi shrugged, and did a side-to-side check of the rows of villas on the street before stepping inside after Vera had moved back and opened the door wider. She intended to ask if he wanted coffee or tea, but when he remained lingering in the entry hallway after she had closed the door, she didn’t bother.

“Not staying long enough to take off your boots?” she asked.

“Better not. And I have a ... an engagement later.”

“So, a chat, then?”

“Right, let’s get to it,” Alexi muttered, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. Only a couple of inches taller than her, she moved to be in his line of vision, so he didn’t have an excuse not to look at her while he talked. But that didn’t stop him from surveying the large piece of rolling luggage Vera had waiting in the hallway. “Going on a trip?”

“To Paris, yes. It’s a ... not a long trip. What’s going on?”

Alexi sighed, turning his stare on her when he said, “You’re aware that I still keep tabs on you and report them back to your father occasionally, right?”

Vera blinked. “Not exactly.”

And she couldn’t say she was pleased about the news, either.

“Demyan and I had an agreement about when I became an adult, and—”

Alexi tipped his head back and forth, quieting her instantly. “Technically, you got what you wanted. I wasn’t within twenty feet of you every waking hour of your days, and you were welcome to have a life outside of his hand of control. No?”

“What exactly do you report back, and how often, Alexi?”

At least, the man had the decency to look ashamed.

“It used to be once a week, at first, but it turned to once a month, and now it’s every three or so. It’s not like you do a whole lot, Vera, you know what I mean?”

“And?”

He rolled his eyes at her defensive question. “Listen, it’s not a big deal. He’s an important man, who deals with dangerous people, and you’re his daughter. I would think less of him if he didn’t keep up to date with what was going on in your life, or who is in it, for that matter.”

Vera’s brow dipped in confusion. “Well, if you’re only updating him, as you say, every couple of months—”

“Three.”

“Whatever. Then you’re not with me every day to know anything about my life, who is giving you the information, huh?”

Ask the right questions, get the right answers.

Vera played this game before with Alexi—she respected him for the fact that he would tell her the truth as long as she was smart enough to ask the right question to get it. This wasn’t an exception to the rule.

And she was already suspicious.

Alexi cleared his throat. “Well, you see—”

“Who?”