“Or made sure you survived to continue trusting her,” Sal points out with ruthless logic.
“You think I’m being played,” I say more than ask.
“I think you’re thinking with your heart instead of your head,” Luca replies. “And in our world, that’s usually fatal.”
After they leave, I sit alone in my apartment, staring at the city lights beyond my windows and trying to make sense of the tangled mess my life has become.
Twenty-four hours ago, I thought I’d found something real with Kira. Something worth fighting for, protecting, and changing my life plan to preserve.
Now I’m wondering if the woman I’m falling for even exists, or if she’s just another mask worn by a Petrov Heiress who learned manipulation before she learned to walk.
The worst part is that I don’t know which possibility scares me more—that she’s been lying to me from the beginning, or that she’s been telling the truth and I’m about to lose the only real thing I’ve ever found.
Because either way, I’m starting to realize that Kira Petrov might be the most dangerous enemy I’ve ever faced.
Especially since she’s the only one who’s managed to get past every defense I have.
CHAPTER 22
Rafa
The surveillance deviceI planted in Brooklyn continues its silent vigil, feeding a steady stream of intelligence directly to my secure servers. What it reveals over the next three days makes me wish I’d never asked the questions in the first place.
“Run that back,” Sal says, hunched over his laptop in my workspace. “The conversation from Tuesday, around 14:30 local time.”
I pull up the audio file, the crystal-clear recording filling the room with voices that belong to my nightmares. Alexei’s Russian bass is unmistakable even through the digital compression. And beside it, a voice I’ve studied from old surveillance recordings—Yegor Durov, the ghost who’s been haunting both our families.
But there’s a third voice on this recording. One that makes my blood run cold.
Vadim Petrov. Kira’s father.
“Are you certain about the timeline?” Vadim asks in Russian, his accent thick but his words precise.
“The Italians suspect nothing,” Durov replies. “They believe their precious tech specialist is loyal. They have no idea he’s already chosen a side.”
Luca pauses the playback, looking at me with uncharacteristic seriousness. “He’s talking about you, brother.”
“I know,” I say quietly, though hearing it confirmed still feels like a physical blow.
“Play the rest,” Gio commands, his massive frame tense with controlled anger.
I resume the recording, each word falling like stones into my chest.
“And my daughter?” Vadim’s voice carries a note I can’t quite identify. “She continues to believe she’s protecting the alliance?”
“Kira remains useful,” Durov responds, and something in his tone makes my skin crawl. “Her emotional attachment to the Rosso boy ensures she’ll resist any evidence of our true intentions. By the time she realizes the depth of our planning, it will be too late for either family to prevent what’s coming.”
“Emotional attachment,” Alexei interjects with what sounds like disgust. “You should have seen them at the engagement party. She kissed him like she meant it.”
“Good,” Durov says, and I can practically hear his smile. “Let her believe love conquers all. It makes her predictable. Controllable.”
The recording continues for another ten minutes, laying out a comprehensive and ruthless plan that takes my breath away. The Petrovs aren’t just stealing from the joint accounts—they’re systematically documenting every aspect of Rosso operations, preparing for a coordinated strike that will eliminate our family entirely.
The marriage was never about alliance. It was about access.
And Kira...
“She’s not in on it,” Sal observes, studying the conversation transcripts. “Look at the language they use when discussing her. They’re managing her, not coordinating with her.”
