My breath catches. The nickname hits me right in the chest, dragging me back to being little, tucked into his side, thinking he could fix anything.
I have to be brave. It isn’t just about me. And my dad proves this, you have to put your children first, even if it breaks you.
“I love you, Lily,” he whispers.
He heads into my en-suite and flushes the toilet, covering the fact that he just told me to hide. Covering up the fact that something is wrong. Covering me.
“I love you too, Dad. I always have,” I tell him quietly, trying not to fall apart.
He leads me out, keeping close behind me as I walk down the hallway to the safe room, my heart in my throat.
My arms wrapped protectively in front of my stomach.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
Drago
I shift in my seat, my gaze landing on Tatiana’s man. He looks down at his watch, then back to me with a smirk. It makes my jaw tense.
“Would you be opposed to my focusing on the drug trade? Wouldn’t that step on your toes?” the decoy Preacher suggests.
Declan scoffs. “There are plenty of substances we don’t deal in. You can take your pick of those.”
He chews on his lip before taking another drag of his cigar.
This is a fucking joke. A complete waste of time. One that needs to be wrapped up. Because I fear they’re now stalling, especially since Tatiana’s man keeps checking the time.
Something is wrong. Something is deeply wrong. My skin is burning. My legs are twitching, telling me to fucking run.
Declan stands and rounds the table, Conan close on his tail. The two men shake hands on the peace deal.
I stand, clearing my throat. “I’ll go and get the contract drawn up.”
The fake Preacher nods to Tatiana’s man, who stands with a grin. “I’ll send one of my men with you. I don’t trust you.”
“Fine,” I grunt.
I lead him out of the doors to the small office to my left. He leaves the door open behind him as I head to the wooden desk in the middle.
A basic, already printed contract lies in the middle.
I pick up a pen and fill in the blanks with the deal terms, feeling Tatiana’s guy’s eyes on me the entire time.
The pen scratches across paper in the quiet, and it’s the only sound in the room. It makes everything feel too still. Too contained. Like the air itself is waiting.
I glance up. He’s shifting on his feet. I don’t react or let his energy throw me off.
He takes a step towards me, and I stand up straight, emphasizing our height difference. Reminding him he’s in my territory, not Tatiana’s.
“Tatiana would like her end of the deal now,” he tells me in Russian, holding out his hand.
I round the desk, stopping in front of him. “Deal’s off. Tell her she can have it when she delivers me the real Preacher,” I tell him back in Russian.
His wild grin returns, a cackle escaping from him. “Tatiana always holds up her end of the deal, Drago.”
I frown. There is no way in hell that the man in there is the real Preacher. I’d bet my life on that.
But this one…
