“No, let me.Clarice might answer my questions more readily if it’s two women, and I have her son with me.”
“Keep your wits about you,” Gregory said, distinct worry in his features.“We can’t trust her.”
“I’m aware, but she deserves to have her son back.She must’ve gone through hell.Let’s go, kiddo.”Edwina slid from the vehicle and held out her hand for the boy.“Do you have a name?”she asked when he cautiously crawled from the footwell.
He stared at her with big brown eyes.Edwina pressed her lips together because she didn’t want to scare the kid.But the man—Smirnoff—deserved his death.Who the hell persecuted a child to get what they wanted?It was despicable, disgusting, and a lot of other things besides.
“Which apartment?”she asked.
“The penthouse,” Ivan replied, his expression blank.
Edwina guessed what he was thinking.Mikhail and Clarice had happened before she’d come along.She’d kissed other men and done more with some of them, so having a hissy fit would be hypocritical.Infidelity after their marriage was a different story, and she would create merry hell if she learned of this type of betrayal.
Once the boy exited the car, she held out her hand again.He hesitated for so long she was about to let her hand drop when he clasped her fingers.She crossed the road, angry all over again at his noticeable limp.If she were Clarice, she’d take the boy to a doctor for a complete physical check.
“Let’s find your mother,” she said.“Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” he said in a whisper.
“You don’t need to be frightened any longer,” Edwina said.“You’ll be with your mother.”And hopefully safe, although she couldn’t guarantee that part.None of them were secure while Smirnoff was alive.
When Edwina arrived in the apartment lobby, a doorman materialized from a wooden booth.“Do you require assistance?”
“Yes, is Clarice home?I believe she lives in the penthouse apartment.”
“I’ll call her,” the doorman said, his English accented.He picked up a phone.“Whom can I say is here to see her?”
“Edwina and Alex.Alex is her son.Can you ask her if we can go up, please?”
The man’s eyes widened a fraction as he dialed a number.He spoke to Clarice in Russian and held the phone away from his ears when she shrieked.He hung up, his expression pained.
“The elevator is over there.”He pointed, and Edwina led Alex in that direction.The doors opened to her touch, and they stepped inside the car.
The ride was short and fast, and she spied a blonde woman waiting as the doors slid open.
“Alex!”she exclaimed and sprang forward, wrapping the child in her arms, weeping, and laughing simultaneously.One of her arms was heavily bandaged, but it didn’t seem to bother her.
Edwina exited the elevator and stood quietly while Clarice greeted her son and cried over him.The boy clung, his stick-like arms clutching his mother.Finally, Clarice drew back.
“I need a word,” Edwina said, hoping the woman spoke English.
“Of course.Where… How did you get my son?”she asked, leading them toward an open door.
The apartment was gorgeous—luxurious and feminine in shades of rose and silver grays.The modern furniture was expensive and lovely.Edwina assumed Mikhail had paid for this, but she shoved the thought away.None of her business.
“Mikhail met with Smirnoff and made your son’s release a condition.”
Clarice gaped, her eyes awash with tears.“He did that?For me?”
“Because it was the right thing to do,” Edwina said.“Alex is a kid.It’s not fair to involve him in this mess.We suggest you take your son and leave.Is there somewhere safe for you to go?Somewhere that Smirnoff won’t find you?”
“I want to stay here.Mikhail—”
“Mikhail won’t change his mind about you,” Edwina said, girding herself against the blast of jealousy that struck her.
“Who are you?”Clarice demanded.
“Mikhail’s wife,” Edwina said sweetly.“Leave here and make a new life for yourself and your son.Mikhail will be busy, should you try to contact him.”
