The shower helps clear my head even if it doesn’t wash away the confusion. What’s gnawing at me is what he plans to do with that information.
I dry off and find my clothes in the closet, exactly where he said they’d be. Everything from my apartment is here, neatlyorganized like I’ve always lived in this space. I pull on black leggings and an oversized grey hoodie.
The smell of food draws me down the hallway to the kitchen. Kirill is at the stove, shirtless, wearing only grey sweatpants that do absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he’s built like a god.
His back muscles shift as he works the stove. His tattoos ripple across his skin in patterns I didn’t fully appreciate last night in the dark, but I sure as hell do now.
He turns and catches me staring, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Good morning, wife.”
“It’s Dinara. For the record, you’re abusing this ‘wife’ business.”
“Oh, I’m just getting started.” He turns back to plate the food. “Besides, I earned the right to call you that after making you come so hard you squirted. First time, if I remember correctly.”
My face burns. “Are you going to bring that up every five seconds?”
“Only if your face flushes that adorable shade of pink every time I bring it up.”
I release a frustrated huff as he plates perfectly cooked eggs and bacon.
“Sit,” he instructs pointing to a stool beside the kitchen island. At least this is the bossy Kirill I’m used to. I acquiesce and slide onto a stool as he sets a plate in front of me and pours coffee into a mug, adding cream how I like it.
He settles across from me with his own heaping plate of food.
I pick up my fork, suddenly starving. The eggs are perfect, the bacon crispy. We eat in silence for a few minutes and I’m grateful for the chance to gather my thoughts and figure out how to navigate this conversation. Because I need answers and I’m not leaving this kitchen until I understand exactly what he wants from me.
I take a breath and plant my hands on the counter beside my plate. “How did you learn my name?”
He sips his coffee, considering me over the rim. “My men searched your apartment. You did an impressive job covering your tracks, but we lifted your fingerprints and ran them through every database we have access to. There was a biometric security check you did at a Swiss bank a few years ago… remember that?”
My stomach drops. It never occurred to me that my fingerprints could betray me. I’d been so focused on digital traces, on wiping my online footprint clean, I forgot about physical evidence. One stupid mistake and my entire cover collapsed.
“From there, a few calls to contacts in Russia and we learned exactly who Dinara Potapova is. Daughter of Yarik Potapov, boxing instructor. Lead hacker for the Belov Syndicate. Graduate of Moscow State University with a degree in computer science that you earned when you were nineteen.”
I push back from the island, my appetite gone. The carefully constructed walls I built around Evelina Panova crumble. He’s listing facts about my life like he’s reading from my file, and maybe he is. Maybe he has pages of intel on me now. Who I am, where I come from, what I’m capable of. It’s terrifying, yet he knows all this and I’m still sitting here wearing his ring.
“I get how this looks, but the Syndicate didn’t send me. No one knows the real reason I’m here. They think I’m living my best New York life attending MTI. That’s it.”
He crosses his arms, biceps flexing. I’m prepared for his doubt, but instead, he says, “I know.”
I shake my head, caught off guard. “What do you mean, you know?”
“I found the burner phone you kept taped under your kitchen shelf.”
Shit. I wipe that phone after every communication, but Kirill wouldn’t mention it unless he found something.
“While you’ve been here, your father texted you. It looks like a text chain with Pavel Fedorov and his wife. It’s clear they have no idea why you’re here and what you’ve been up to. It’s also clear they love you.” He runs his thumb down the centerline of his lips. “They’re thinking of visiting for Christmas by the way.”
“You read my personal messages?”
“Is that what you want to focus on?” He reaches behind himself and slides my phone across the counter. “You should be happy I found them. They convinced me you’re not a spy.”
My shoulders drop, my lungs expand, and for the first time since our wedding, I breathe properly. “Well, I guess that’s something.”
He tilts his head, considering. “There’s one thing I don’t understand. The Belov Syndicate has unlimited resources. If you wanted to find out what happened to your mother, why not ask Pavel for help? You’re obviously close.”
I take a breath, trying to put everything into words. “We are, and if I had asked Pavel for help, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But bringing the Syndicate in would turn this into an international incident. Pavel would send soldiers, demand answers, probably start a war. I needed to know what I was dealing with before I dragged everyone into it.”
He nudges my chin up with two fingers. “It’s time you told me the whole story, don’t you think, malyshka?” Baby girl.
