Ruth’s smile changes, showing off more teeth. It reminds me of a blade being slowly slid free of its sheath. “Everything.”
My blood runs cold. “How?”
“I’ve had my suspicions that things were a little unconventional between you two. I paid some very skilled individuals to gather intelligence. And my, did it pay off in dividends.”
“Does Peter know?”
“Not yet,” she says sweetly, honey dripping off her words. “But information has a way of traveling, especially when a woman feels underappreciated.”
I hold her gaze. “You’re blackmailing me.”
“I’m merely reminding you of the stakes. Treat me properly, allow me to run my operations, maybe provide a little logistical assistance when required, and I stay quiet. Disrespect me again, and Peter finds out he has a daughter.”
For a moment, I actually hear a faint ringing in my ears. If Peter learns the truth, the war flares up again. What will happen will make the Bratva war of decades past look like a goddamn bar fight in comparison. This city will burn.
Ruth smiles brightly, reading my face. “You always did underestimate me, love. You thought I was just another piece on the board to move. But today, you’re the pawn.” She sets her glass on the nearby table. “I’ll be taking my leave. You’ve got plenty to think about, I imagine.”
She turns and walks away, the click of her heels fading as she strolls down the corridor and around the corner.
I stand there for a long time, working through the fury boiling inside. Part of me wants to call Bogdan, tell him Ruth can’t live to see the morning. That’d be one way to end this, or make it even worse.
I run my hand through my hair, forcing composure. Ruth has the truth, and she’s dangling it like a lit match over gasoline.
I give myself a few moments to get myself together. My next move is to speak to Gabriella, see how she’s feeling. When I’m ready, I step back inside the ballroom.
The music’s softer, couples swaying under the low lights. I scan the crowd for Gabriella but can’t find her. I do, however, spot Angie near the bar, laughing politely with one of Johan’s men. She looks up as I approach, almost certainly noting the storm behind my eyes. The man she was speaking to gingerly steps away.
“Where is she?” I ask.
Angle blinks. “Gabby?”
“Yes.” My tone comes out sharper than I intend. “She’s not here.”
She glances toward the doors, a slight frown on her face. “She said she was feeling sick. Bogdan took her home about twenty minutes ago.”
I frown. Sick? That could mean anything—from nausea to panic to realizing the world she’s standing in will never be safe for her or the babies.
Angie studies me, her tone careful. “Everything okay?”
No. Not even in the slightest. But I nod anyway. “Fine.”
She doesn’t believe me, clearly, but lets it go.
I leave. It’s a bit of a faux pas to quietly exit, but I have bigger matters on my mind. As I walk out into the coldnight, I can still hear Ruth’s voice echoing in my head:Peter doesn’t know yet.
Yet.
I pull my phone from my pocket, staring for several long moments at the black screen. Gabby’s gone home, Ruth is making her moves, and Peter’s watching everything. The empire I’m building with Johan is fragile, and the war I’ve managed to keep dormant for years is on the verge of heating up in a way I might not be able to contain.
CHAPTER 32
GABBY
The next night…
I’m not snooping—I’m auditing.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
