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I swing open the door. “Has Yuri sent you to make sure I haven’t made a run for it?”
The man laughs deeply as he steps aside. “I brought your fairy godmother.”
“Fairy godwitch, Dmitri. We discussed this.” A woman steps in front of the soldier. “My apologies for stopping by unannounced. I’m Gianna Bianchi…Volkov. I still can’t get used to adding my married name.”
“The Vor’s wife?”
“Yes, and the Don’s daughter. Someday, I will have an identity outside the men in my life.”
Opening the door widely, I step back. “Please come in.”
“Thank you.” She holds up a tin. “I made Biscotti Regina the other day and thought you might enjoy them.”
“That’s so thoughtful.” I accept the tin and watch her take off her coat. “Oh my.” I touch the lace decorating the sleeve of her top. “This is incredible needlework.”
Holding up her arm, she smiles. “My grandmother has given me her wardrobe, and this number is from a little-known collection of Dior’s.”
“Stunning.”
“If you ever want to peruse fashion history, have Yuri bring you out to the house. My collection stretches from the fifties all the way to the nineties. Nonna not only had exquisite taste but an unlimited budget.”
“Lucky, lucky you.”
“Yes. In many ways, I am fortunate.” She looks over her shoulder. “Do you have a chair for Dmitri? We need to have a proper girls’ chat, and I don’t want to make him stand in the hall for an hour.”
“G. I can stand for twelve hours straight.”
“I know. But why do it when you don’t have to?” She leans in. “He pretends to be offended, but he’s not.”
I grab a chair from the small table in the corner. “Will this do?”
“If two hundred and fifty pounds of Bratva muscle won’t break it, then yes.”
I watch Dmitri scowl and am reminded of his brother. “Yuri sat in it, so it’s Russian-approved.” He takes it from me and walks out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.
“Good. Now we can speak freely.”
“Should we have coffee with the cookies?”
“That would be lovely.”
“Please make yourself comfortable.” I quickly stride into the kitchen and make a tray, wondering why Gianna would go out of her way to speak with me.
Five minutes later, we’re settled on the couch with coffee in hand. “I’m not sure—”
“Why I’ve invaded your space and imposed myself on you?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Your story fascinates me and pulls on my heartstrings. After my husband told me about those Bratva brats flying in, I couldn’t stop myself from digging into your predicament.” She sips her coffee. “I’m a fairly talented hacker and knew I could get to the bottom of it much faster than anyone.”
“Did you have luck?”
“I don’t need luck.” She winks and takes a cookie out of the tin. “I hacked into the World Bank when I was twelve and NASA when I was thirteen.”
“Wow.”
“Is that an impressed, wow, or a horrified one?”
