Page 37 of Lethal Obsession

This is why I never come to these things.

Why I dread my father’s visits, as much as I long for them.

It isn’t just that I don’t belong in the kind of society my sister seems to navigate so effortlessly.

It’s the memories and emotions that come at me, like a barrage of carefully aimed artillery, every time I find myself in intimate contact with my family.

Whatever life we all shared before their coup is a dim distant memory, one I learned early not to cling to. Not if I wanted to survive.

Family events feel like an enemy force battering at walls it took time and pain to build.

“Alexei.” Roman’s greeting isn’t quite so warm as the others. “Must have missed your RSVP.” He gives me a rather hard look. “What’s my son’s excuse?”

“A delayed plane.” I match his tone. “Mickey asked me to be here instead.”

“Well.” Roman doesn’t look remotely mollified. “Good to see you listen to him, at least.”

Clearly, Darya told him about my lack of RSVP to the original invitation.

Over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of two vaguely familiar faces glaring in my direction. Friends of Ofelia’s, if I recall correctly, and by their forbidding expressions, equally as unimpressed by my presence as Roman.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Get me out of here.

“Well.” I return his hard smile. “Thanks again for the invitation. Pass on my congratulations to Ofelia. Her playing was . . . exquisite.”

“Yeah.” Roman grips my elbow as I go to turn away, pulling me close. “No fucking chance,” he snarls in my ear. “You’ll come for cocktails and act like you’re having the time of your fucking life. And if you upset your sister, I’ll put a bullet in your side myself.”

I resist the familiar urge to beat him to it. The problem with Roman is that he sometimes forgets he’s not the only killer in the room.

The irony is that it’s Darya he’s worried about me upsetting. If he had any idea of what my presence will do to his daughter, he definitely wouldn’t be inviting me for fucking cocktails.

It blows my mind sometimes that Roman can be so astute when it comes to business and so utterly fucking clueless emotionally.

Oh, because you’re such a genius at that shit, Alexei, are you?

Roman releases his steely grasp on my hand, but the warning in his eyes is still plain as he puts an arm around my shoulders. “I was just telling Alexei about the cocktail bar we’re headed to,” he tells Ofelia’s friends. “What did you say it was called again, Benny?”

“404 Not Found.” The male friend gives me a distinctly frosty look. “It’s a speakeasy-style bar near Place de la Bastille.”

“Named after a fucking computer error.” Dropping his arm from my shoulders, Roman casts his eyes skyward, though his tone is indulgent. “Sounds like Mickey and Lars chose it.”

“That’s because they did,” chimes in the female friend as he turns away, giving me an openly curious stare. “What happened to them, by the way?” I don’t miss the accusatory note in her voice.

This night just keeps getting better.

“Plane was delayed,” I say for the third time in as many minutes. “They got a later flight, so they should be here soon.”

And despite the fact that I’m the reason for the delay, I’m still going to find it hard not to fucking kill them both when they show up.

“Sounds like you’re going to miss out on that cozy limo ride then, Benny.” The girl grins as she nudges her friend.

Benny pouts. “Another dream shattered, Lourdes darling. Or should that be fantasy?”

Despite the hostility radiating from both faces whenever they look at me, Benny and Lourdes seem by far the least objectionable company I could pick for the ride between here and the bar.

“I’m not sure what your fantasy is,” I say, forcing another smile onto a face that doesn’t do much of it, “but I can make the dream part come true. My limo is out front, if you’d like to ride with me.”

The two of them stare first at me, then at each other, their internal conflict on clear display.