“Her belief in me was a true godsend. I assure you neither her father nor Giovanni would want her associating with me any more now than he wanted then. However, I’m pleased to announce we’re about to be married. Two powerful families brought together. Imagine what the Petrovs will think. Granted, from what Kirill told me, I expect pushback from them, but our soldiers will be ready.”
As the news settled in, I concentrated paying attention to Stash. His eyes were narrowed, his chest rising and falling as theunderstanding began to settle in. His caution look was followed by another sense of knowing. I could feel it.
“That’s horrible. How were you found?” Mikhail asked, his hand trembling as he walked to the bar. While it was barely two in the afternoon, shock was apparent. I couldn’t blame him. I’d gone through some of that myself. “Where were you kept?”
“Black Dolphin.”
“The explosions there,” Stash muttered and I could see the hint of a smile on the corners of his mouth.
“Exactly. And how I was found was a miracle actually. Kirill proved his loyalty tenfold. Our grandfather knew who Kirill should contact since rumors were flying. I’m surprised you didn’t hear them.” I glanced from one to the other before picking up the letter.
“We heard things, Kazimir, including from the fucking Russians who no doubt had you shoved in the prison.”
Stash was also angry, barely looking at my bride to be.
“This was all about claiming our territory,” Mikhail suggested.
“In a way, yes.” I lifted the letter. “Something our father was planning on warning us about. He was murdered before he had the chance.”
“Murdered?” Stash inched closer, thoroughly confused.
And angry.
“Yes, I’d already asked the coroner to run some tests. They were waiting for my return from Italy.” The statement was a lie. A ploy. One I didn’t enjoy using. “The tests confirmed his heart attack wasn’t an accident. Now, it’s been too long to figure outhow and who, but our father knew there was a chance he could lose his life. Although I do know of a perfect murder weapon as I’ve used it myself and even taught Mikhail about the benefits of using it when necessary.”
For the first time, Mikhail bristled.
“Our father was murdered,” Stash repeated. “The fucking Petrovs? They’ve been hounding us since you disappeared. Relentless bastards.”
“I imagine they would. They smelled blood in the water from our family feasting on its own. There’s more. This is the important part of the story. Our dad tried to find out who murdered our mother for years. Ever since the horrific car bomb he was beside himself, although he was a master of keeping his emotions in check. I had no idea the lengths he’d gone or was willing to go to discover the truth. Now, I do. The son of a bitch figured it out.”
I laughed, turning my full attention on Rafaela. There was such sadness in her eyes. So many moving parts to the story. So much betrayal.
“Then who killed our mother?” Mikhail eyed me warily.
“Don Pollizi ordered a hit on our father and perhaps our uncle, but the bomb placed in the car was powerful enough that if it had gone off at the right time, several family members could have been killed. My guess is the plan was for it to go off when we were inside the villa as a family. Sadly, our mother was in the wrong place at the wrong time as suspected. The Italians knew there would be no better chance than when we were in Sardinia on vacation.” I tossed the paper provided to me by our attorney onto the desk, feeling almost empty inside.
“The Italians. That’s not possible.” Mikhail shook his head. “Our father had them checked out before daring to enter into a contract with them. Extensively.”
“You had them checked out, Mikhail. That was your job. And our father respected what you found.”
“Whoa,” he gritted out, throwing up his hands. “I presented the facts and our father was adamant they would be good fit for our corporation. For an alliance. That’s why I continued with his wishes even after I was concerned they had something to do with your disappearance and the ambush. What are you suggesting?”
“I’m merely stating facts, Mikhail. There is proof the Italians were working against us. Against you.” The proof would be in the admittance. Although the letter from my father had been written in hopes that I would stop the alliance or use the information to do what he’d planned on doing.
Annihilating them.
With no idea, I’d walked into a trap. However, Giovanni had needed help, or the occurrence wouldn’t have been successful.
At this point, I didn’t need physical proof to end the charade. I only required one thing. One missing piece.
“What is going on?” Mikhail asked, searching my eyes, as frustrated as I’d seen him. He laughed, the sound completely bitter. While he raked his hand through his hair, I glanced at Rafaela.
Her subtle intake of breath was a damning proof that would haunt me for years.
And there it was, the ugly proof that was needed in the form of a sound usually made of joy. I was gutted, so much so for a fewseconds I could barely breathe. She was right in that people had a threshold of pain, a place of darkness that was often pulled free even if a part of the person didn’t want it to happen.
Rafaela’s expression hardened, her lower lip quivering, but only I could see the change. She quickly returned to a plastic smile that she’d perfected around her father.
