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Once he’s put Leo to bed, Nick heads for the hallway. I hurry after him, like a trained dog on a leash. I wince at the unflattering comparison as soon as I think it, but it’s annoyingly accurate right now.
As soon as the door to Leo’s room is closed, I whirl on him, intent on getting answers.
Once again, Nick beats me to speaking. “You and Leo are safe here. Get some sleep, and we can talk tomorrow.” He nods toward the door we’re almost to, leading into the room next to Leo’s.
I want to argue. Partially because capitulating feels like ceding the little control I have in this situation, accepting it’s nonexistent. Mostly because I have so many questions—questions I’ve wanted answers to for years. Questions that landed me in this mess.
Nick doesn’t wait around for a response or offer up a,Sweet dreams. He’s gone in the length of time it takes my heavy eyelids to blink. Leaving me to walk into the guest room and wonder what the fuck I managed to get involved in. I’m almost relieved I’m too tired to panic about it.
CHAPTERTWELVE
NICK
Adoor slams upstairs, followed by a shout. Roman and Grigoriy glance at each other, then at the ceiling.
My hand finds its way into my pocket, tracing the edge of the lighter I always keep there. The metal is warm from my body heat and somewhat reassuring.
Another slam.
Another shout.
It’s been like this all morning. I had breakfast brought up to Lyla and Leo first thing. American foods I specifically requested the chef prepare and haven’t eaten since I lived in the States. But I’ve remained in my office ever since I woke from the few hours of sleep I managed to get, ensuring I won’t run into either of my visitors.
Aside from my mother, no one besides me and the staff has spent the night here in nearly a decade. I keep an apartment in Moscow for female guests, preferring to keep the solitude and the security here sacred.
It’s strange, hearing signs of life echo through the drafty halls. The staff stays silent and organized, working hard to stay out of my way. Based on the commotion upstairs, I’m confident the same won’t be the case for Leo and Lyla.
“Bianchi didn’t answer my call,” I state.
“Shocking.” Roman smirks. “Think it could have anything to do with the way two of his soldiers disappeared on the same day you were in town?”
I shoot him a glare that could freeze water. “I’m going to have to meet with him in person again.”
Grigoriy raises both eyebrows. “That’s risky. If you—”
“I wasn’t asking. Bianchi will set off a shitstorm if he kills me, and he knows it.”
“He can’t afford to let murdering his men go unpunished either.”
“Let me worry about that.” And Iamworried about it. It’s one of the many things that kept me tossing and turning for most of the night.
Worry has been a constant companion of mine for years, more reliable than anyone or anything else. I’ve dealt with it well because I’m removed from it. They’re my problems, but they’ve felt like someone else’s. Like thePakhan’s. This situation we’re in now affects me directly and is tangled up in choices I made before being forced to step up to this role. There’s no degree of separation from business.
“So…he’s yours?”
I let Roman’s question hang in the air long enough to gain substance. For it to feel like a living, breathing presence in the room.
That’s when Lyla decides to burst into my office with the determination of a bull after a red flag.
Roman and Grigoriy jump to their feet, immediately on high alert. Interrupting a private meeting in my office is akin to a death wish.
I don’t flinch. Just appraise her tangled hair and the clothes that are a size too large.
It’s been eleven hours since we arrived at the compound. Honestly, I expected her to demand answers sooner.
Grigoriy glances between me and Lyla’s annoyed expression.
Roman scoffs, looking at Lyla with a scowl that makes my temper flare. “You dare—”
