"Sophia," Bogdan says without looking at her. "Go wait in the library."
I bristle at the command. This is my house, and he's ordering people around like he's the one in charge. But I don't argue. I need to find out what he wants first.
Sophia meets my eyes briefly, and I see an apology there before she turns and walks away. Her heels click against the marble floor, the sound echoing through the foyer until she's gone.
"Shall we?" Bogdan gestures toward my office.
I lead the way, my mind already working through strategies. Whatever he wants, whatever he's heard, I need to control this conversation. I need to make sure he doesn't get any information I'm not willing to give.
My office is exactly as I left it this morning. The desk is clear except for my laptop and a few files. The chairs are positioned across from each other, and the windows overlook the grounds. It's my space, my territory, and I need to use that to my advantage.
Bogdan settles into one of the chairs without waiting for an invitation. He crosses one leg over the other, completely at ease, and studies me with those calculating gray eyes.
"So," he says. "Let's talk about the girl."
I take my seat behind the desk, putting the solid wood between us. "What about her?"
"I've heard rumors." He leans back, his fingers steepled under his chin. "Interesting rumors about a certain librarian who disappeared from her job. About how she bears a striking resemblance to someone we all thought was long gone."
My stomach tightens, but I keep my expression neutral. "Rumors are just rumors."
"Are they?" He tilts his head. "Is she really Yegor Pushkin's daughter?"
The question hangs in the air between us. I could lie. I could tell him he's mistaken, that Mariya is just some woman I'm seeing. But Bogdan didn't get to where he is by being stupid. If he's asking, it's because he already knows the answer.
"Yes," I say.
His eyes light up with satisfaction. "I thought so. The resemblance is remarkable. She has his eyes."
"What do you want, Bogdan?"
"Want?" He spreads his hands innocently. "I'm simply concerned. If word is spreading about the girl, that means others know too. Others who might want to use her to get to Pushkin. Or to get to whatever he stole."
"I can protect her."
"Can you?" He leans forward, his expression serious now. "How many people know she's here? How many have seen her? The Bratva has eyes everywhere, Andrey. You know that."
I do know that. And the fact that Bogdan is here, asking these questions, means the information is spreading faster than I thought. Faster than I can control.
"What are you suggesting?" I ask.
"I'm suggesting that you need to be very careful." His voice drops lower. "There are people who would pay a fortune for information about Pushkin's daughter. People who would do anything to get their hands on her."
The unease that's been building since he arrived intensifies. He's right. If word is spreading this fast, Mariya is in more danger than I realized. And keeping her here, in my estate, might not be enough to protect her.
15
MARIYA
Ipace my room like a caged animal, my mind spinning in circles that lead nowhere. The puzzle pieces. Those damn puzzle pieces my father hid in that underground room. Why? What's the point of cutting up photographs or documents into dozens of irregular shapes and hiding them in a metal box?
I stop at the window, gripping the bars until my knuckles turn white. The estate grounds stretch out before me, beautiful and pristine in the fading evening light. But all I can see is that box. All I can think about is what those pieces might reveal if we could just put them together.
My father was methodical. Careful. He didn't do anything without a reason. So there has to be a purpose behind this elaborate puzzle, something he wanted to hide so thoroughly that even if someone found the box, they wouldn't be able to understand what they were looking at.
But what? What could be so important that he'd go to these lengths?
I resume pacing, my footsteps silent on the plush carpet. The room feels smaller tonight, the walls pressing in on me. I've been here for days now, locked away like some princess in a tower. Except there's no prince coming to rescue me. Just a Bratva boss who thinks I'm the key to recovering his family's stolen heirlooms.
