Page 3 of Lethal Obsession

Benny’s family might tolerate him doing a degree in music, but they’d never accept an openly gay son. As a result, he remains on this side of the Mediterranean as much as possible and is almost as pathological about staying out of the press as I am. He’s the only friend I have who isn’t intimidated by Roman Borovsky’s legendary, if somewhat mysterious, reputation. Even those outside the criminal world have heard about Mercura, my father’s invitation-only, untraceable cryptocurrency platform used worldwide for black-market transactions. They know my family is worth billions—and one look at the hard faces of our security detail, and the ink faintly visible under a lot of the handmade tuxedo shirts, is enough to give even a casual observer a pretty good idea what kind of world produces those billions.

It’s easy enough for casual observers to be intrigued by the world I come from. Seduced by it, even.

They don’t have to live with the bombs, guns, and death that are an integral part of the Russian bratva.

They’ve never felt the hard edge of a blade against their skin.

I shiver despite the warm July night.

“Joder,” Lourdes swears as the maître d’, who is also her brother, glares in her direction. “Carlos will kill me if I don’t actually do some work. He got me this gig.” She points a warning finger at Benny. “Look after her.” She squeezes my arm, then moves off into the crowd, pulling a face at her brother as she goes.

“So.” Benny leans his head briefly against mine. “Pirate Boy still not here, then?”

“No.”

He has a nickname for every man who comes into our lives. Thanks to Alexei’s eye patch, he’s been Pirate Boy ever since Benny laid eyes on him at my first solo piano recital in London last year. The two have never met, nor have I told Benny about the dark history we share. But Benny, for all his camp facade, is one of the most insightful people I know.

He rubs his cheek gently against my head. “He’ll come, baby girl.” He goes back to the stage, sending me the ghost of a wink as he raises his bow and resumes playing.

I’m deeply grateful he’s here tonight. After three years of living in each other’s pockets, Benny in particular has become my family and helped make London a home. I know my parents expected me to celebrate my birthday in that city.

But tonight is a carefully calculated balance, one I spent months thinking through.

All with a single goal in mind: how do I create an event impossible for Alexei to avoid?

The result is an occasion big enough to include the men from Alexei’s Miami crew who once helped protect and save my sister and me. Formal enough to include invitations and an RSVP date, but intimate enough that almost everyone knows each other. Alexei can’t possibly avoid coming, given that he’s pakhan in Miami and Darya’s brother.

Without such meticulous planning, I believe Alexei to be entirely capable of avoiding me for the rest of his life.

Abruptly, the string quartet cuts from the soft strains of Pachelbel to something far more dramatic. It takes me a second to realize Benny is playing the theme music from Pirates of the Caribbean.

Pirate Boy.

Alexei is here.

Even without Benny’s less than covert warning, I think I’d have known.

It’s the way people move instinctively aside as the heavy wooden doors open. The sudden lull in conversation when they catch sight of Alexei’s grim, scarred face and lone eye, then the hasty resumption of nervous chatter as they all studiously look away again.

It’s the subtle shift of energy that happens when a crowd tries to pretend that a class A predator hasn’t just appeared in their midst.

It takes me a moment to realize I’m gripping the arbor hard enough to put ridges in my hand, half hidden by the scented flowers.

Not exactly the picture of confidence, Ofelia.

“Lars!” My brother Mickey greets the lanky man at Alexei’s side with a warm hug. “About bloody time.” He claps the tech genius on the shoulder. “Let me get you a drink.” He clasps Alexei’s hand politely, but with considerably less warmth. “Lex. Good of you to come.”

Mickey knows, or at least suspects, more than the rest of my family about my feelings for Alexei.

But he’d never betray my confidence by talking about it. Not even to me. Not unless I raise it first.

That’s the thing about growing up in our world.

We know how to keep secrets. Our own, and each other’s.

Especially secrets that can kill.

And the secrets between Alexei and me would mean his death if anyone ever discovered them.