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“I know you.” She spoke in English with a heavy Russian accent. “You are even more handsome in person. Now I begin to understand.”
“Understand?”
“What he saw in you.”
The pieces fell into place. Russian woman. Sasha. “You’re his assistant.”
“You got it on the first guess. Impressive.” She turned to Ilya and said something in Russian. From the way Ilya frowned, I suspected it wasn’t friendly.
“What did you say to him?” I asked her.
It was Ilya that spoke up. “She says the Bratva killed her family and she hopes mine meets the same fate.”
Cristo santo. I didn’t want to piss off Nikolai’s man. I needed him. “Sasha, why are you here?”
“To see you, the Ravazzani principe.”
Only Alessio called me that. The back of my neck turned hot at the reminder. I snapped, “He did not need to bother. It’s a waste of your time.”
“He didn’t send me. I haven’t talked to him. I don’t even know where he is.”
Was this true? I studied her face. “He didn’t tell you where he was going? And you haven’t tried to find him?”
“I’m not stupid. Of course I have tried to find him. But Alessio is the only person who can evade me. He is like a ghost. Poof.”
“When was the last time you saw him or spoke to him?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” I lied.
She reached into her bag—and Benito shot to his feet, his hand now inside his jacket and grabbing for his pistol. Sasha’s gaze flicked to him. “Do not worry, big man. I bring only harmless papers. No weapons.”
Slowly, she eased a stack of papers out of the bag. “For you, Ravazzani.” She dropped the thick pack on the glass table in front of me. “And I have not seen or heard from him in three weeks, when he asked me to do this.”
“Three weeks!” I reached for the papers but didn’t look at them yet. “Have you checked his passport, his accounts? He has to be using money.”
“He is too smart to use his passport. And he doesn’t have access to his money.”
What did that mean? He was resourceful—perhaps the most resourceful man I’d ever met—but why go underground? This worried me. And Sasha was entirely too blasé for my liking.
She pointed at the stack in my hands. “You need to read that.”
“Sit down.” I extinguished my cigarette and gestured to Benito’s empty seat. I wasn’t done interrogating her. “Have a drink while I look this over.”
Ilya took that as his cue to move in and chat up Sasha. I ignored them and began reading. My alarm mounted with each sentence. Alessio had transferred all of his holdings—bank accounts, investments, even his properties—over to me. He’d given me everything. It made no sense. I left him in Sicily, our status very clear. Despite his apologies, I had rejected him. I couldn’t get past the lying.
In return he’d given me everything he owned and disappeared.
“Che cazzo?” I looked up at Sasha helplessly.
“I don’t know much Italian,” Sasha said. “But your face tells me you are as confused as I am.”
I switched to English. “Did he leave a note? What did he say?”
“He gave me those instructions,” Sasha gestured to the paperwork. “Told me to see it carried through. Once I’m finished, he said I should look for a new job.”
“New job?” I threw the papers on the glass. “Fuck, I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it.” Then a horrible thought hit me. I had to grab the armrest to steady myself. “Was this . . . was this meant to serve as a will?”
