Page 80 of Unholy Tsar

Her eyes light up with the biggest smiles I’ve ever seen as she walks right into my chest. “No one’s ever cooked for me before. It-it’s so sweet. Thank you.”

I hug her back. “But I burnt everything.”

“You’ll get better.”

“Get better? I’m not sure I’ll ever do this again. I’m scarred for life.”

She pushes away, and gives me a playful poke in the ribs. “Not with that attitude, you won’t. Now, let’s see, there are still some ingredients here. Why don’t you go sit down while I take over?”

“Can you cook?” I ask skeptically, and she freezes, which says it all. I chuckle. “Forget it. I’ll just call down to the restaurant and have them send us something.”

She pouts. “I can’t even give it a try?”

“Nope,” I say, drawing her into my arms. “You don’t ever have to worry about stuff like this again. We have private chefs for a reason. I’ll call down and have them send something up. Why don’t you hop into the shower.”

“Fine,” she huffs grumpily.

I give her one last soft kiss, then pat her ass in the direction of the bathroom.

When she’s gone, I call the lobby and ask them to send someone to clean the mess I made and bring up their breakfast special. The second I get off the call, Dante calls my name. I look over, and the serious expression on his face stops me in my tracks.

I know before he even says anything that I’ll have to leave before the breakfast I just ordered arrives. Fuck. “What is it?”

“We just got an anonymous tip with an address that apparently belongs to our elusive puppet master. But we need to move fast. The message says he’s planning on leaving the country tomorrow.”

“Fuck. Let me see it.”

Dante hands me his phone and everything seems to check out. But the house in the address is in St. Petersburg, roughly a seven-hour drive from Moscow. If we want to make it there before nightfall, we’d have to move now. Damn it.

“I just ran a quick search, and the mansion at that address belongs to Vladmir Portov, one of the richest businessmen in Russia. He’s suspected to be a high-ranking member of the new Bratva,” Ezra, one of my men, says as he walks back into the living room.

Could this really be it?

I have to go check it out myself. Still, I hesitate. My gaze falls on the closed bedroom door. I can’t just leave Cecilia alone again, can I? Especially not after the scare I got last night when I thought I had lost her. That was such a terrible feeling, I never want to experience it again.

But she only wandered out of the hotel. If she stays in her room, she’ll be safe. Nothing can touch her here.

“What do you say, sir?” Dante asks, and I turn my attention back to him. The rest of my men are also watching me, waiting for my decision.

“Get the cars ready,” I instruct. I need to deal with this, once and for all. Then Cecilia and I can have our happy ever after. But I won’t leave her with just anyone. I’ve made that mistake far too many times already.

While Dante prepares our crew, I text Rian Kilpatrick himself.

ME:

How quickly can you get to Russia?

RIAN KILPATRICK:

Do you want to take me on a vacation, Uncle Maksim?

I chuckle. That little shit. I text a quick summary of what’s been going on and why I’m in Russia, emphasizing at the end that I need him here to help me watch over my jewel. The only way I can fully focus on my mission in St. Petersburg is if I’m sure Cecilia will be safe here.

And there’s no one I trust more than the young king named after my best friend.

RIAN KILPATRICK:

We’ll leave ASAP and be there in, say, 11 hours? Sounds like I won’t be alone either... Told everyone and they’re all thinking a little time away might do them some good. Hope that’s alright.