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Andrei’s expression tells her he can’t be moved. “It’s not a punishment,” he says. “This isn’t to be mean. It’s for your protection. No one will dare touch you there.”
Emma catches sight of me, and her eyes beg for backup. I open my mouth to speak, but then close it again as my hands rest on my belly. If I side with Emma, there might be consequences—she’ll start believing that she has a choice and start taking risks again. I won’t risk my baby again. Not for anyone.
“I’m sorry, Emma,” I speak quietly. “But I have to agree with Andrei. He can’t rescue us on a daily basis. It’s too dangerous,” I add softly.
She looks over at Andrei’s pleased gaze. “He wouldn’t have to rescue us if he didn’t belong to the Mafia.” She runs past me, and a few seconds later, I hear the door slam upstairs.
Andrei scowls, but I hold up my hand to stop his harsh comments. “I have to go get her. My dad needs us now.”
That night, Emma and I stay with Dad, playing his favorite songs and holding his hand. He is far from lucid, but he seems to be at peace. In an odd way, he is his old self again—the person who loved us and raised us—the man we loved because he was good to us, and not Sava Khodemchuk.
During the night, Emma and I stay with him—perched in chairs placed beside his bed—and in the early morning, Dad breathes his last.
Another bedroom has gone quiet. The mansion seems too big for us now.
Chapter 10
Paige
In the afternoon, Emma and I sit in the living room on a leather sectional that’s rarely touched. I glance outside the tall windows and watch the movers load the hospital bed onto the truck. There won’t be a funeral or a wake. I decide against it, and Emma doesn’t argue. We sit by the window while the staff drift in and out of the room to offer their condolences.
It’s over for him, but not for us.
Looking more chic than kick-ass, Natasha enters the room dressed in a navy suit consisting of a retro blazer and long pants. She gives me a hug, and I hold onto her tight. I smile to myself at the ridiculousness of how we have become friends.
She moves toward Emma and gives her a quick embrace. “Let me know when you want to go shooting again.”
Emma looks away and shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe.”
“Give her time,” I say, squeezing Natasha’s arm. She nods and leaves the room for Andrei’s office.
“They can’t take a day off from Mafia business,” Emma mutters.
“It’s disrespectful to call it Mafia business.”
“Sorry, should I call it raping and pillaging?”
“Emma, please.” I lower my voice to encourage her to do the same. “Everyone is going through something today.”
Emma breaks, and her voice trembles with emotion. “I’m glad I got back in time to say goodbye to Dad.” She refuses to talk about the details of the kidnapping and pretends like it was a bad vacation. But it’s changed her, and I’ll never know what exactly happened. “When will we get the money?” she asks.
“We have to talk to the lawyer.” I sigh, leaning against a plush cushion. “Did you like the new school? How was the tour?”
The bitterness returns like a tidal wave of resentment. “Don’t pretend like I have a choice, Paige. The Mafia is running my life. Do you think your baby daddy will gift me a Mercedes to drive to Mafia high school? I want to fit in. So better make it a Porsche.”
I take a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Emma, I can’t do this now.”
She turns away, and I watch her profile as her bottom lip trembles. “Sorry.”
“I want the money too, and probably for the same reasons, but we have to be patient,” I tell her. “We have to play their game. If we don’t, they’ll be suspicious. Please, just go along with it.”
It makes me sick that we’re fighting today of all days, but she’ll thank me later when she’s alive and this is only a bad memory. I’d like to see that day, but it’s going to take patience and faith. She has to believe that I want the best for her too.
Emma stands up and looks at me with a mixture of pity and hate. “Excuse me, I have to go lie down somewhere and cry.”
***
Days pass, and I try hard not to go on a rampage. I’m frustrated that I cannot access the money left to us in Dad’s will. Kenney is the executor of the estate, and the lawyer has assured us that everything is in order. I have good reason to believe I’m being lied to. Every time I ask Kenney through my lawyer about the money, the answers are evasive and saturated in legalese.
