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A surprise awaited me at the airport. Ilya casually leaned against one of the cars.
I tensed, hating that I suspected him of shoving me down the stairs, but he did have motive and means. He always walked away whenever he saw me, and it only enhanced the feeling that I was perhaps right in suspecting him. Still, innocent until proven guilty and all that jazz, so I wouldn’t hold his ignoring me against him.
Also, you don’twantit to be him.
Yep, that too.
Kristoff cut him a look as we got out of the car. “You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”
Except I did. “You can go inside the plane. I’ll be right there.”
He arched a brow and pointed at the tarmac ten feet away. “I’ll be right there.” Guess he had no plans to let me out of his sight anytime soon.
I strode over to Ilya. “I was wondering if I would see you before I left.”
“I deserved that,” he said. “But I’ve seen the way you looked at me.”
“Look at you? Like what?”
“Filled with suspicion. I went to the hospital to visit you, and overheard you and Mia talking in your room. You believe someone might have pushed you down the stairs.”
“I'm not sure what I remember,” I said. Then more truthfully, “But yes, for a second I considered it could have been you, since you obviously hate me.”
His jaw ground, then he let go of his breath. “I don’t hate you. It’s just difficult for me to see the way Aslanov is with you. But that’s a conversation for another time. I'm here because I couldn't live with you thinking I would try to murder my own sister, let alone her unborn child.”
I swallowed when he mentioned the last part.
He took out his phone. “That’s why I examined the security footage to prove I had nothing to do with your fall, which surely had been an accident. Then I discovered this.”
I watched the video in horror. The hallway was shadowy, but I could see a man bumping into me. When I held onto the stairs, he shoved me, then disappeared into the crowd. But not before his face was caught on camera. I had no idea who he was, until Ilya closed the video, and showed me pictures of the man with Svetlana.
Icy cold washed over me. I felt empty, then anger boiled up, but I kept my face impassive. Kristoff was sizing us up from a few yards away.
“Have you shown this to Kristoff?”
“No.” When I looked surprised, he added, “You’re a Bratva queen, Katya. Queens don’t ask their king for permission to exact vengeance. Just say the word, and I’ll take care of her.”
It was an olive branch; he lay an offering at my feet, to exact my vengeance as I pleased.
Should I become a Bratva queen, just this once?CouldI become one?
If I never saw Svetlana again, it would be too soon. Also, I feared that if I ever came face-to-face with her again, I might strangle her.
I nodded. “I could use your help.”
26.
KRISTOFF
The very next day, after we’d returned to San Francisco, I sat in my study, contemplating my life choices.
My hand clasped around my vodka glass. I’d enjoyed the burn, though I didn’t deserve to feel any pleasure whatsoever. I’d failed to protect my woman, and my unborn child.
“I should have never let her slither back into my life.”
Damon, who sat at his usual place by the window sill, looked impassive at my confession. It was one of the things I appreciated most about him. Admitting to my faults was one thing, owning up to them aloud was another. Especially when my mistake had cost me so much.
My thoughts were spiraling into a dark thundercloud, when a knock sounded on the door.
