Page 15 of Unholy Tsar

By the end of the class, three hours later, they’re by no means ready to face a threat, but at least they’re not just the helpless kids who walked into the library this morning. Now, at least, they have a basic knowledge of how to get themselves out of trouble.

After the lesson, while both girls have their lunch, Vincent, Bree’s head of security, and I have a brief conversation about the recording he sent me last night of Bree and Cecilia. The recording was the real reason I made sure Cecilia was part of today’s lesson.

“Keep this new information to yourself,” I command him sternly. “Right now, only the two of us know. If it somehow gets out, then I’ll know you’re not to be trusted, and you’ll be harshly dismissed. Also, delete the recording. Make sure I have the only copy.”

He nods sharply and leaves me alone in the library. I clench the USB in my hand. I’ll toss it into the fireplace when I get home. Then I text my private investigator. I’m not going to go through Dante this time, even though I trust him. The matter is just too sensitive.

ME:

Stop your investigation on Cecilia Lombardi. Find everything you can on Cecilia Rose Bianchi.

Eventually, we’ll find out Cecilia’s real name, but Bree’s slip-up only makes it all the more difficult. I can’t believe my niece has willingly lied for this woman. Why?

I make my way outside and quietly shadow Bree’s entourage. Is it icky stalking my niece? Fuck yes. But I need to know what’s going on in her friend's head. It’ll take at least a few hours for my investigator to find anything, so I’ll just have to follow her until then.

When they get to Bree’s apartment, Cecilia whispers something into my niece’s ear. Bree gives her a worried glance but then nods. Cecilia offers her a quick hug, and then she walks away.

I contemplate tailing her with my car, but that risks tipping her off, so I get out and track her on foot while keeping a discreet distance. A few minutes later, her steps falter, as if her feet got caught on something. My heart skips, and I have to restrain myself from rushing over to see if she’s okay.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Suddenly, my phone pings with a text. I take it out of my pocket and look down. It’s Dante. Before reading the message, I glance up at Cecilia to make sure she’s okay, but she’s gone.

I freeze.

What the hell? I stuff the phone back into my pocket without reading the message. Where the fuck did she go?

I scan the sidewalk as I make my way to the spot she was standing before. There! Just ahead, a small path turns into an alleyway.

What is with this girl and alleys?

Sighing, I venture into the alley. Like last night, it leads to a dead end, but this one is empty. She’s not here.

So where is she? I turn around to leave and… bam.

There she is, standing at the opening of the alley.

“Still stalking me, old man? Have nothing better to do?” She twists her lips and lifts her hand to admire her nails. But she’s not fooling me. Her feet are tapping the concrete floor. She’s nervous.

“I’ll admit, you’re good,” I sneer. “More than any spoiled rich girl has any right to be.” I can’t wait to hear back from my investigator so I can finally know everything about this woman —there’s so much more to her than meets the eye.

“There you go again with your assumptions. Why do you think I’m a spoiled rich girl?”

“Because you’re friends with Bree, obviously. My niece went to the finest private schools, and her movements have always been regulated, so she only meets people in her circle.” As I speak, the movement of Cecilia’s feet on the pavement distracts me. That’s when I notice how tattered her shoes are.

“Shame on you and your family. I didn’t meet Bree in school anyway. We only became friends last year.”

My eyes snap back to her face in surprise. Nolan mentioned they met in college three years ago. They’ve been lying to him too? My gaze wanders to her shoes again. Is that a hole? “You’re not a rich girl, are you?” I realize. “That’s why we couldn’t find anything about you.” Plus, we had the wrong name, obviously.

“You didn’t find anything about me?” she taunts. “What a shame. From what I heard about you, I thought you’d be better at your job.”

“Or maybe you’re just a nobody, Myshka,” I shoot back.

“Myshka. You keep calling me that. What does it mean?”

I raise a brow at her. “I do the questioning, Myshka. Now answer my question—you’re just a nobody, aren’t you?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “That’s what I’m trying to be, Maksim. A nobody with no connections. Is that too much to ask?”