He regarded me. “Your pilot was advised to take vacation for a week.”
“We will take mine.” Simeon shrugged.
Had Zariah given our pilot time off?
“Impossible, sir.” The man flicked his gaze to Simeon, lowering it respectfully. “Your superjet isn’t available at the private hangar. Your daughter.”
As Simeon cursed up a storm, I got up. “Doesn’t matter how we get there. We get there.”
45
SIMONA
Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean
If piercing glares could kill,Jake would’ve ended me. So, Ikilledhim with a technique I’d never needed.
Kindness.
“Thank you for coming with me.” My voice was thicker than the organic honey in my delicate teacup. I took a sip.
“Cut the crap, Si—” At the jitter of turbulence, he snatched my hand. That had to be an automatic response. After seconds of bouncing around in my father’s superjet, his hand released mine.
“Mid-Atlantic Range,” I noted.
He offered what my American cousin described as the stinky eye. Nyet. The … stink eye.
Clearing my throat, I explained, “Turbulence often comes from mountains. In our situation? It’s the Mid-Atlantic range—an underwater mountain. This has also happened to me while journeying through the Himalayas. The Swiss Alps.”
“You’ve been all those …” Jake mumbled, trailing off, “it figures.”
“I climb. Helps me think.” I slipped thick strands of hair behind my ear. “You don’t travel?”
“Your family thinks ours is uncultured. Savage Scots. Let’s?—”
“Mm-hmm, savage.” My tongue ran seductively over my lip.
“—keep it that way,” he finished, mouth set in a perpetual angry line. “Baran confirmed a hacker reworked the corrupted footage. Lorenzo Ferri is on video footage near The Red Door. He murdered Baran’s brother?—”
“Borya—”
“What?” Jake shifted in his seat.
“Borya. Baran’s brother was Borya. Lorenzo murdered and framed Borya.”
His mouth quivered with barely restrained violence. He cut himself from the clan, acting like he and his family were different.Da, we Resnovs were polished, dressed in suits. But why stare at me like I was frost itself?
Because, Sima, you love yourself. Natasha. Tetya Zariah. Mama.
That wasn’t true. I just didn’t understand my father, or Baby Luka, or the twins. Okay, I understood the twins. Self-absorbedmatryoshkas.
Jake blinked. “Why are we handling this? Call your father and uncle. They’ll grab your cousin, treat Lorenzo to a long, slow death, and leave my family out of it.”
Because I…My features schooled too neutral. “Why do you ask me questions?”
Jake scoffed.
I answered my ringing phone.
