Lucy
“The food is here!”
Ivan and I looked up from a spread of documents when Irina walked into his study. I didn’t plan parties, but I was an expert at suggesting when we needed one. It was the perfect excuse to get back at Kirill for every art auction or poker game he forced me to attend, especially when he was so smug about letting me know that my presence at his side was merely a smokescreen for him to do business.
Meanwhile, Irina and my very capable housekeeper managed all the details of throwing an elaborate dinner. It was Irina’s forte, and she was thrilled to be put in charge of the Zahkarov social calendar. I knew my limitations, and I knew my strengths. I leaned on people and their expertise.
I checked my phone. Nothing from Kirill. He wasn’t trackable and I had no desire to call him again.
“I talked to Kirill five hours ago.” Although “talked” was a stretch. “They should arrive soon.”
“Oh, I called him,” Irina said. “They should be here in thirty minutes.” She tutted pointedly at her husband. “Put that away and go get ready. You haven’t even showered yet.”
Ivan grunted. “I guess we can save this for another day.”
“I’ll clean up here.” Which simply meant grouping the papers in stacks I understood.
Ivan rose to his feet. Kirill was taller than his father. Ivan had a stockier build and was barrel-chested. He also had craggier features that I would classify as fiercely attractive. Combined with Irina’s classical beauty worthy of a Botticelli painting, they only improved on the genetics. I was convinced Marriage Ink owned a genome lab to be able to make such perfect pairings.
I’d even admit that Kirill was heartbreakingly handsome if he weren’t such a dick. Aralina inherited her mother’s sweet features, thank God, and her blonde hair was enviously and effortlessly thick, glossy, and wavy.
Ivan stopped at the door and turned back to face me, apprehension on his face. It was the first time he was leaving me alone in his study.
“What? Go before Irina comes back and fusses at you.”
He huffed and reluctantly left the room, apparently more worried about Irina’s irritation than leaving me in his study. They were cute together. Ivan was gruff, but it was apparent Irina and Aralina were his world. I wondered what had happened between them in the stretch of years before Aralina was born.
I had no intention of snooping into bratva business, but anything to do with the Kings’ interest in Anya and the events of Bruce’s death concerned me.
Ivan’s interest was certainly piqued when I mentioned the Kings at Davenport’s funeral. Kirill sent me a warning stare, but somehow I managed to stir his father into letting me take care ofit. After all, it was what I did. I think Kirill let it go because it gave his father something to do rather than meddle in bratva affairs.
See? Win. Win.
And I’d uncovered interesting ancient history between the Kings and the Zahkarovs. Ivan told me this might have something to do with Duncan’s illegitimate daughter. He just couldn’t find the reports he’d received when he had an investigator check out the rumor that included a picture of a child. A girl. He suspected Davenport was holding something in trust for her. Even hiding her whereabouts. This was huge because the King fortune was at stake.
The reports before me were mostly scribbled, typewritten, and scanned documents. Very old school. Ivan had never used a computer and had never trusted it. Which made this process doubly exciting for me. I felt like Sherlock Holmes. I even procured a magnifying glass. There was a folder labeled Esther King, which contained her therapist notes and stay in a psychiatric hospital. Another stack of papers grouped together labeled Renée. Duncan’s mistress. According to Ivan, Duncan really loved Esther, but Renée was his escape.
The door flew open, making me jump.
“What are you doing in here?” Kirill’s forbidding form stood within its frame.
I glanced at my phone and then back at my husband. That thirty minutes away was really ten. “Helping you find leverage to make the Kings stop harassing Anya.”
He stalked into the room, right around the desk, and studied the scattered papers in front of me. “Anything useful you’ve found so far?”
“Yes. Your father said it might have something to do with an illegitimate daughter.”
There was a gasp at the door. I looked up and saw Aralina. She didn’t speak but made some sounds, even the odd internal laugh that didn’t quite vocalize.
Beside her stood Kolya, the bratva enforcer who I supposedly put in jail, and who was presently staring at me like I was his next victim. His brilliant blue eyes were a contrast to Kirill’s pale blue ones. I wasn’t sure which ones were more unnerving.
“All right,” I said shakily. “This is awkward.”
“Don’t worry, Lucy.” Sato shouldered past the black-garbed presence at the door. “Lucy is off-limits, right, pakhan?”
Kirill didn’t immediately reply. When I tilted my head up to seek confirmation, he was staring at me, a muscle ticcing at his jaw. Even with my husband’s limited expressions, I sometimes could discern the spectrum of his moods. Right now he was displeased with something or someone, probably me.
“Kolya and I have an understanding,” he said after a beat.
