Page 133 of Lethal Obsession

But I know better than anyone that betrayal doesn’t always come from outside the home. Sometimes betrayal can even be accidental, done with good intentions.

The reality is that Alexei’s life is in danger, and I am a pawn on the chessboard who can be used to hurt him. That makes both of us vulnerable—and nobody trustworthy.

And what that means, I think dully, is that I’m alone with this—again.

24

Alexei

It’s midmorning and I’m working in the cyber room, waiting for Ofelia to call, when the secure line rings.

I frown at the unknown number. I click to answer anyway; if they have access to this line, they’re inner circle.

My father’s face fills the screen. “Syn moy.” My son.

“Papa.” I smile, though I’m more than a little surprised. My father and I are not given to casual chats at the best of times, and certainly not when it may be a security risk. “Where are you calling from? And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“Roman has installed a secure room in the finca so he can work from home.”

I wonder how many centenarians know what a secure room is, let alone how to use one. It still astonishes me that despite having lived for almost a century, and being almost incapacitated by a stroke over a decade ago, my father has not only rebuilt his physical fitness, but remains as mentally astute as he ever was.

“I told him I wished to speak to my son in private,” he is saying now, “so he made the connection and then left. We are alone.”

And that means something is wrong.

“Are you well, Papa?” I ask cautiously.

“Of course I am well.” He glares into the camera. My father might be old, but he loathes any suggestion of frailty. “I am calling because I have a concern regarding Ofelia.”

“Oh?” Oh fuck is more like it. I brace myself for whatever interrogation I’m about to undergo.

“I went to Granada last weekend to watch Ofelia perform.”

I keep my expression neutral with an effort. “I hope it went well.” Given that I not only live streamed the performance, but had a breathless blow-by-blow account of it soon afterward from Ofelia herself, I know exactly just how well it went.

His expression softens. “She was sublime.”

Understatement.

Watching her perform that piece in the Alhambra was an almost transcendental experience.

Beaten only by the exquisite torture of our phone call later that night.

“After the performance, Ofelia introduced me to a friend of hers, a woman by the name of Seline Duval.”

So far, this isn’t going quite the way I expected it to.

“Has Ofelia mentioned this friend to you?”

“No,” I lie. “Why would she?”

“I am old, Alexei. I am not blind.” He fixes me with an extremely stern eye, which, despite my age and the many men I have murdered, still has a rather quelling effect. “And I must ask you for honesty, even if the truth is uncomfortable. You may be inclined to dismiss what I am about to say as nothing more than an old man’s paranoia.” His grim expression forestalls my protest. “And it is possible you would be right. But it is also possible that Ofelia’s safety—and yours—depend upon you taking my warning seriously.”

“What do you mean?” I stiffen, every cell suddenly microtuned to danger. Out of my father’s sight, I click to bring up the security cameras at Ofelia’s house.

To my relief, she is seated at her piano, completely focused on whatever she’s playing.

“What is this about, Papa?” Adrenaline makes my voice harder than it might usually be.