Esther knows about Renée and the pregnancy.
There was no signature, but I could only surmise it was from Duncan. But why was he sending it to Ivan?
My head was spinning. So, it was quite possible the girl in the picture wasn’t Ivan’s child, but what was his involvement? I needed dates, and the picture had no indication of when it was taken.
I saw a sketch of a young woman and raised questioning eyes at Aralina.
“My attempt at age progression.” She shrugged and dropped her eyes. In my interactions with her, she usually shrugged when she was unsure or shy. If there was one thing that warmed my heart, it was that she didn’t fear her brother who was one scary motherfucker to other people.
“This looks good, but there’s software for that.”
Her eyes lit up. “That’s what I was hoping you would say. I don’t want anyone in the bratva to know, especially Kirill and Papa.”
Renz returned with our cappuccino and brioche. “Trevor was looking for you earlier.”
“Oh shit.” I checked my phone. I had silenced the buzzing when Kirill drove me in. He’d rattled me more than I wanted to admit, and I didn’t want him questioning who was trying to reach me.
Me
I’m at Jabbin’ Java. Sorry, I double-booked.
Trevor
I’m hurt. But take your time. I did a flyby and saw you’re with Aralina.
Yes, I was going to ask for your help with something, but there’s another priority.
Text me when you’re ready. I’ll be in the Underground for most of the day.
This Grindhouse building housed this café and other businesses like a boxing gym, a private investigator, and a law office. The Underground was the basement and ground zero for the De Lucci crime family and the Archer Syndicate—the vigilante organization headed by Matteo. Dom was part of its leadership, and its function was policing the underworld and making sure no one organization became too powerful. That was all I knew about it. Trevor Hayes was their intelligence officer, and he’d become my go-to guy whenever I needed deep-dive information beyond what googling could get me.
“I don’t want to pry unless I have to,” I told Aralina. “But I need to know basic Zahkarov history. Like what’s the animosity between Ivan and Kirill?” No one wanted to talk about it, and God knew I tried, even with the house staff. “How does Maksim fit into this? He wasn’t even at the party yesterday. In fact, I rarely see him.”
Aralina typed on her screen. “Roman.”
I knew who he was. “Ivan’s eldest son from his first wife.” Ivan’s first wife died in childbirth. They had a son, and from what I could tell from the family pictures in his study, Roman was the treasured son. The one destined to lead the bratva.
She typed some more. “I don’t know what happened. Ask Kirill. And it’s too painful for Papa to talk about, but he blamed Kirill for Roman’s death. From Papa’s drunk ramblings, he thought Roman would be alive if Kirill wasn’t such a coward.”
A chill crawled up my spine. Kirill a coward?
“How does Maksim come into this?”
“He was born before my parents were married. He and Kirill have a working relationship. He runs our legitimate side, Zahkarov Holdings, and keeps a distance from the bratva.”
“But he’s married?”
“He and his wife are estranged. He’s been a pain in the ass since Ophelia left him.”
“Going back to Roman’s death, that was when Ivan sent Kirill to Russia?”
Aralina nodded.
“How old was Kirill?”
“Nine.”
“Nine?”
