Page 11 of Secret Heir

“I already told you. Home.” I gesture to the open door. “Now get in before I lose my patience.”

She climbs in awkwardly, trying to manage Daniel and the duffel bag. I take the bag from her—it weighs almost nothing—and toss it in the back. Then I wait until she’s settled with Daniel on her lap before closing the door.

I take the front passenger seat, giving them space.

I’m not an idiot.

The boy is already scared.

Sitting next to them will only make it worse.

Len pulls into traffic without a word.

He knows where we’re going.

He’s made this drive a dozen times in the last month, preparing the house for their arrival.

I watch them in the rearview mirror.

Aria has her arms wrapped around Daniel, her cheek pressed to the top of his head. She’s whispering something I can’t hear.

Probably lies.

Probably telling him I’m dangerous, and that she’ll find a way to escape.

She won’t. I’ve made sure of that.

Daniel shifts in her lap, and I get a better look at him.

He’s wearing clothes that are too small.

Pajama pants that end mid-calf, a shirt with a faded cartoon character I don’t recognize.

Aria has layered an un-zipped hoodie over it, but even that is worn thin.

There’s a hole near the left pocket.

His hair is dark like Aria’s, thick and straight.

It needs a cut as it falls into his eyes, and he brushes it back with a gesture that’s pure Nikolai.

That same impatient swipe, like the hair is an annoyance he doesn’t have time for.

Everything about him screams Sokolov.

The bone structure.

The way he holds himself, back straight even though he’s scared. The sharp intelligence in those gray eyes as he takes in every detail of the SUV’s interior.

This is my blood. My son. My brother’s nephew.

And Aria tried to deny it by telling me he belonged to some phantom lover who didn’t exist.

The rage flares again, and I dig my nails into my palms until it passes.

“Mama?” Daniel’s voice is soft and uncertain and my heart clenches because I’ve never heard him speak before. He’s whispering, but I can hear him clearly in the quiet car. “Where are we going?”

“On a trip, baby.” Aria’s voice is falsely cheerful, strained around the edges. “Just for a little while.”