Page 19 of The Pakhan's Secret Baby

“I can afford whatever the fuck I want,” I snap, but he's right. Seventeen million rubles isn't pocket change.

It isn't devastating, but the results of my trade route and suppliers being lost could be ten times that.

As much as I want to stew on this, I have to get my head out of my ass and figure out what's going on.

“Find out everything about that boy. I want birth records, doctor visits, who the mother lists as the father on every form. And dig deeper on Emory. I want to know every class she takes, everyfriend she has, every place she sleeps at night. If that child's mine, she's going to explain herself."

Devid sits back with annoyance scrawled across his scrunched face and furrowed brow, but he remains quiet the rest of the ride.

I sit with my elbow on the armrest and my hand covering my mouth as I concentrate on what I think I saw.

It was too far away for me to make out details of the boy's face, but my guess is he probably looks like me.

The anger roiling around my chest makes it difficult to calm down.

I'm not sure if I'm angrier because Emory kept a secret from me or because in all my searching I never once got the faintest hint that she could've hidden it from me.

I knew where she’s gone to school the past three years, but not once did I stop to investigate her deep personal life.

She's been hidden too, moving around frequently—which should've tipped me off.

Oleg must be in deep with the Gusevs.

Why else would he be so shifty?

And keeping his daughter under his thumb too.

It's such an obvious thing to me that I overlooked without thinking about it. I was distracted by business, and I never had a reason to investigate past where Emory spent her time.

Now I'm kicking myself.

By the time we pull up to the house, my mind has run through a dozen scenarios of what I might do to approach her again and confront her about this.

The wrought-iron gates swing open as the car rolls up the drive to park right in front of the house.

I wait for Devid to get out, then I slide out after him and stride inside.

I head straight for the study, shrugging off my coat as I go. The fire is already lit.

Flames dance behind the grate and warm the room as I pour myself a generous measure of vodka and knock half of it back before I even sit down.

The burn feels good.

It matches the fire in my chest.

There are a few ways I could go about this, and I'm not sure which one I want to pursue.

If I storm right in and demand answers, she could use the power of the Gusevs to flee and hide.

That's a horrible idea, considering Emory could be the only leverage I have against the man selling my secrets.

And there's another problem with that.

If I have no leverage to make him bow to me, I have no way of knowing how he got my secrets to begin with.

Or I could find out everything I know about her and that boy, and use it to my advantage.

Which seems like the only rational choice I have now.