Two days later…
Bogdan drives through the cold gray light of morning. My gaze lingers on the wet asphalt, the exhaust haze, the thud and splash of tires over road puddles.
I sit in the back of my Maybach, coat collar up, my eyes on Ruth’s dark green Mercedes G Wagon two cars ahead.
“There,” Bogdan says. “The bank.”
The car smoothly slides into a spot in front of a bank ahead. The driver, a hulking man in cargo pants and an ink-dark peacoat, exits and steps around the car. He opens a door and Ruth emerges. She’s in a beige trench and black flats, her eyes hidden behind designer sunglasses and her hair tucked behind her ears—it’s her style when she means business.
I watch as she says something to the driver, then hurries into the bank. The driver returns to the car and pulls out, merging intotraffic.
“So,” Bogdan says, “what do you think she’s up to?”
“Moving money around,” I say. “Consolidating. Making sure she’s ready for what’s ahead.”
“Almost like she’s bracing for something.”
“Good. Let her brace. If she crosses me, it won’t help.”
Bogdan flicks his eyes to mine in the mirror. “You sound like a man who’s already decided on blood.”
“I’ve decided on what’s necessary. If she’s planning on merging with Peter, she’s positioning herself to be my enemy.”
Bogdan sips his coffee. “I suppose there’s no chance you’ll let her simply move into the illegal affairs we’re leaving behind?”
“If that’s what she wants, she’s going about it in the wrong way. And I know for a goddamn fact it’s not what Peter is aiming for.”
“So, the same plan?”
“The same plan. We interfere with her operations as much as we can, without resorting to violence or destruction. We slow her down. This will give us time to finalize the deal and isolate Peter.”
He exhales, nodding. I can tell he has something else on his mind, something he’s not sure if he ought to bring up.
“Speak.”
Bogdan sighs. “And what about Gabriella? You said she’s still in the dark about Peter. You think she’ll make it throughthis without finding out the truth? What happens if the truth catches her without your knowing?”
My jaw tightens. Bogdan is doing what he does best—confronting me with truths I don’t want to hear but need to deal with all the same. I just can’t bear the thought of saying the words out loud to her.
“She’s better off not knowing,” I say quietly. “For now, at least.”
“She’s better off knowing, and fromyou.”
The air between us is tense. Bogdan’s loyal, but his loyalty has teeth—he knows he can speak to me like this, and I’ll not rip into him for being too familiar, for stepping out of line.
“She deserves the truth,” he says. “All of it. And to be blunt, if she finds out the truth from someone other than you, you’re screwed. She might very well never forgive you for hiding it.”
“And what happens if I tell her?” I snap. “She runs? She looks at me and sees the enemy of her own father? What if her loyalty shifts?”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” he asks, a scoff in the words. “You must not think too much of her if you imagine she would turn on you like that.”
“I’m the father of her children,” I say, even though I think he’s right. “But he’s her blood. If she found out the truth now, right at the cusp of war breaking out, it would be a burden she shouldn’t have to bear.”
“Ah, so now you’re doing her a favor by withholding the truth.”
“She doesn’t need him. She doesn’t need to know. What goddamn difference would it make?”
“Need?” Bogdan repeats. He’s pinpointed the most important word in my little tirade. “Who’s to say who needs what? But she has arightto know. And more than that, keeping her ignorant doesn’t protect her. It merely makes you a liar in her eyes when she finally learns the truth.”
