Page 191 of Lethal Obsession

“Frankly,” Papa says, sitting back in his chair with his arms folded and eyeing Mak narrowly, “that sounds like Alexei Petrovsky’s idea of a good time.”

He might be looking at Mak, but I know the words are meant for me.

I’m still casting about for an effective rebuttal when Mickey speaks up. “Maybe once that might have been true.” He glances at me. “But not anymore.”

“Well said, Mickey.” Mak gives my brother an approving smile. “And a sentiment which I happen to know is true—even if Alexei doesn’t recognize it himself.”

I still, every nerve suddenly on high alert.

Papa makes a dismissive noise. “I prefer to leave redemption to the church, Mak. If Alexei needs his head shrunk, he should find a therapist.” His mouth twists in contempt. “Although given Petrovsky’s body count, he’s more likely to need a fucking priest and a long confession.”

“That’s enough.” I leap up, the words out of my mouth before I can stop them. Gripping the table, I glare at my father. “Back on the yacht, when I spoke to you and Darya, I thought you understood that Alexei and I are together. I thought you’d accepted it.”

Papa slams the table with both hands and rises to match my glare. “And if you’ll remember,” he snarls, “your boyfriend also gave me his word that you would be safe. His exact words to me, in fact, were ‘Nobody will ever endanger your daughter’s life again. Not while I have breath in my body.’” His eyes blaze at me. “How the fuck has that promise gone so far, Ofelia?”

“He’s my fiancé, Papa, not my boyfriend. And what about when you first met Darya?” I snap right back at him. “Did you keep her safe when she was on the run, pregnant with Aleksander and afraid for her life? And what about the promises you made us after Mikhail died—that you’d always keep us safe? How did that turn out—when Masha and I were kidnapped, and Mickey risked his life to come and save all of us? God.” I shake my head bitterly. “You are all such hypocrites.” I stare around the table. “You, for example.” I point to Dimitry. “Abby was missing for months before you even realized there was something wrong. Held captive in a Myanmar scam farm. Where were you?”

Dimitry shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn’t try to deny it.

I turn to Mickey. “And you. I bet that if I asked Lourdes right now, she wouldn’t know the first fucking thing about the truth of our family or your business. I doubt you’ve ever told her you’re anything other than a tech guy who works with Lars. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He just sits, stone-faced, staring at the table.

I turn to Mak next. “I don’t know anything about your life. But that’s just it, isn’t it? Nobody does. Mickey did a deep dive on you back when we were kids and found out that you used to work for British Intelligence, under a different name.”

“Impressive,” Mak says lightly to Mickey, though his face is hard, with no trace of his usual cryptic smile. “That information isn’t easy to find.”

I turn my hand palm up in exasperation. “My point exactly.”

“None of this matters,” Papa interrupts furiously. “Nobody at this table is perfect, sure. That’s hardly news. But my own faults also make me uniquely qualified to know when someone else is likely to be even worse. I wanted to give Alexei a chance, Ofelia—I did,” he says, when I look skeptical. “For Darya, as much as for you. But it didn’t help to discover that not even Sergei has any faith that Alexei can change.”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t have any faith in Alexei?” I frown. “Alexei told me Sergei was happy for us.”

“No.” Mickey and Papa respond at the same time, emphatically.

“They had the mother of all fights, ’Felia.” Mickey’s tone is almost apologetic. “I’ve never seen Sergei as furious as he was when he found out about the two of you. They haven’t spoken since.”

Why didn’t I know that?

I turn back to Papa. “What did Sergei say to you after they spoke?”

He slowly takes his seat. “You mean Alexei didn’t tell you?”

I shake my head. “Not a word.”

For the first time I see a hint of uncertainty in his face. “Sergei and Rosa left our house the same day he spoke to Alexei. I wasn’t there at the time. Darya and he—I believe they argued,” he says, slightly reluctantly. “She won’t talk about it.”

Oh, I bet she won’t.

This time, when our eyes meet, Papa’s drop first.

Mak clears his throat. “If I might finish answering Ofelia’s earlier questions, about why I’m asking for your help,” he says delicately, his customary urbane mask firmly back in place. “And, perhaps, offer an opinion.”

“Why the fuck not?” Papa takes a mouthful of cognac. “Seems like a night for opinions.”

Mak clasps his hands on the table in front of him. “You’re all assuming that Alexei is going to war because he wants to reestablish his power in Miami.” He looks around the table. “In fact, Alexei has no intention of taking the city back. Beyond eliminating Thorne, Hunter, the Novikovs, and any other associates who might pose a direct threat to him or his friend Renata, he has no interest in returning to Miami at all. Quite the opposite.”

That gets everyone’s attention. Including mine.