Page 59 of The Allure of Ruins

“You have to go be charming,” I said firmly, moving to the hook on the wall and grabbing his wool and cashmere trench coat that looked amazing on him. “Let’s go already.”

A more unhappy man, albeit a stunning one, I had never seen. I also had no idea that one could put a scarf on so angrily. I was laughing as he opened the door.

It never occurred to me for even a moment that Erast Antonov could be there in the hallway—especially since he was supposedly dead.

“What is the cop even doing out there?” I yelled at Colton, gesturing at Erast, who was holding a gun. “How is he missing this man coming⁠—”

“This isn’t him,” Colton said, stepping in front of me so that if the gun went off, it would hit him, not me. “I saw pictures, and—it’s not.”

“What’re you talking about?”

He gestured at Erast.

I understood instantly. “Oh, no. You’re right. This isn’t Genrikh Antonov.”

“Okay,” Colton replied like this was normal, us chatting casually in front of a man who could shoot us both dead. “Good. I thought I was going nuts for a second.”

“No,” I said, moving so I was shielding Colton. “This is his cousin Erast.”

Colton stared at him. “No shit?”

Erast smiled slowly. While not an ugly man, he was not in the same league as his cousin, who embodied what a thousand-year-old vampire would look like. Beautiful and sexy, sleek and nearly flawless, with pale skin and dark eyes.

“Tell us the story,” I ordered Erast.

He glanced at me, then at Colton, who crossed his arms, following my lead, taking his cues from me the same way I did from him when the roles were reversed. We would not be alarmed, and there would be no yelling. Again, this was us, as we always were.

“You realize I have a gun and I’m going to murder you if you don’t tell me where the diamonds are,” Erast informed me.

“What diamonds?” I snapped at him. “Seriously, I’m so sick of being asked about goddamn diamonds I never saw. That day when you got all snarly with me and said, Oh, we’ll see when Gen pulls the surveillance footage and—” I stopped because I needed to know.

“And?” he prodded me.

“You’re here. Gen is not. Is he dead?”

He took a breath. “No. Last week he called up that fucking widow—you remember, the one from Bosnia and Herzegovina—and after all this time, she flew into New York on her private jet, picked him up, and that’s it. He’s done. Living the rest of his life as a kept man.”

It was sort of poetic. She had all the power, Gen had none. Because yes, he’d live the rest of his life carefree, but how much of his heart and soul would that choice eat?

“Why didn’t he come to ask me about the diamonds?”

“I have no idea,” he said irritably, starting to pace. “We came together, and I always have to travel in a stupid disguise because I’m supposed to be dead, and it’s fuckin’ cold here. What the fuck? How long does it stay like this?”

“I thought these guys were Russian?” Colton asked me.

“Yeah, but they were all born in Southern California, except for Csokas and Rokov, I think.”

“That’s correct,” Erast confirmed, sounding dejected, almost sad.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. Because I’d been scared for Colton and worried for me about how I would handle seeing Gen again. But now it was Erast, and I was just annoyed. Plus, he sounded petulant, which was grating. “Did you want an heiress to come whisk you away?”

“That’s your problem, all of you, all the house entertainment. You always thought I was jealous of Gen, and I wasn’t.”

“Gen was the one with the beauty and the charm,” I made clear. “He was the one who went out, found people, seduced us, then turned us out.”

“That last part isn’t exactly true. You weren’t walking the streets. He kept you all in that fucking mansion you put an end to when you left.”

“I’m all torn up about that.”