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I killed the call I was on with Yuri and placed my phone on my desk.
I wondered when Katya was going to tell me about Ilya Koslov. She had to know Yuri would have told me that he had approached her twice now. Yet she hadn’t broached the subject with me once.
The only reason Ilya wasn’t strapped to a chair in my basement was because I liked having the upper hand, as in the element of surprise. We were coming after his boss. According to rumor, Ilya was Aslanov’s right-hand man, among other things. Since Aslanov didn’t have a male heir, it was thought that Ilya would be the next in line, especially since he had kept the Bratva afloat when Aslanov went to jail.
I knew about the damn name card he’d slipped to her. A card she had kept tucked inside her bag, which annoyed me to no end. The only reason he was still breathing was because I was trying out this whole ‘being empathetic’ shit. I wanted—no needed—Katya to stay with me of her own free will. That didn’t mean I would let her go, should that will of hers decide she wanted to get rid of me. Still, it was better if she believed she had a choice. It would make things much easier.
I was still pondering whether to have Ilya strapped to Damon’s surgery table in the basement, when a knock sounded on my door.
I looked up. Usually, people didn’t knock before entering since the only ones who ever ventured inside my private space were soldiers or Katya.
It was a whole three seconds before I realized that since the door still hadn’t opened, it could only be one person.
For a moment I debated ignoring my unwanted guest. Then I remembered Katya’s look. It had been one of wonder, like she was actually proud of me. I felt that I liked the way she looked at me, as if I had hung the moon and stars. Like I actually had done right by her.
“Come in,” I finally said.
Evie entered the room. She still had dark circles beneath her eyes. Guess that was what a psych ward could do to a person.
“I came to thank you.” However hesitant she looked, it didn’t sound in her voice. It was confident, probably from years of private tutoring and dictation lessons at an Ivy League university.
I leaned back in my chair, my fingers entwined behind my neck. “I’m not the one you should be thanking.”
I had never considered, not even for a moment, to free her. To me she was just a cog in the well-oiled machine that was Senator Ryan’s empire. Piece by piece, I would bring that entire family to its knees. Of course, it might be a little more difficult with Evie now that Katya had taken her under her wing.
She inched forward and her gaze shifted between the plush purple chair and the leather recliner.
I chin-jerked at the recliner. “The other one is where Katya sits,” I explained, making sure she understood she wasn’t allowed to perch her butt there.
As she sat down, her eyes didn’t leave me. There was no fear in them, not even curiosity, but something resembling assessment, which was unnerving. I didn’t like it one bit, neither did I like that we shared the same eye color.
She cleared her throat. “You must love her very much.”
Her words were ludicrous. As if a simple four-letter word could describe what I felt toward my wife.
“Why are you here?” I knew my voice was harsh, but I couldn’t keep my dislike from her.
“You look just like him, you know.”
I bared my teeth and a flash of anxiety entered her eyes. Good, I hadn’t lost my touch.
“And you look like someone who thinks I won’t rip out her tongue for insulting me like that.”
She flinched. “I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just a fact. You don’t need to threaten me, though. I know you won’t hurt me.”
Interesting assessment. “Really? Has no one told you that hurting people who piss me off is exactly what I do?”
The girl had no idea about the murky waters I’d lived in for over a decade. Or the amount of people I’d dragged into the cold, unyielding depths with me, only to resurface by myself, leaving my victims behind.
She crossed her legs. “Katya wouldn’t let you.”
“She would never find out.”
With a sigh she sunk deeper into her seat. “When I said you looked like him, I only meant on the surface. Our father would never place his wife’s wants before his own.”
Ourfather? It felt as if someone just poured gasoline down my throat.
She shrugged. “It’s the reason I’m here instead of a psych ward, isn’t it? Not because you care about me, but because you want to please your wife. If there’s one thing I can say about out dear father, it’s that he hasn’t pleased one soul in his life other than himself.”
