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I almost say no, but a large man appears in the doorway. One of the guards who is tall and wide. Except for his face, his visible skin is covered in a network of tattoos. He looks at me coldly and then speaks to Larissa in Russian.
“Garage,” she answers him coldly in English. “Not here.”
He nods respectfully, and her grip tightens on my arm until he leaves the house.
I seemyself swimming with Nikolai in the penthouse pool again. The water, warm and crystal blue, laps against my bare skin, and his dark hair almost covers his eyes. He grins as he lifts his hand and smooths it off his forehead. My heart flutters watching a simple but sexy gesture.
But then we stop laughing and splashing each other. His gaze narrows, and his hands wrap around my neck. Nikolai’s eyes are cold and determined as his hold tightens around my throat. I struggle against his strong grip, trying desperately to break free. I claw at his crushing hands, trying to pry them loose, but it’s useless.
He wants to hurt me. He wants me dead.
I bolt upright in bed, gasping for air as I surface from the depths of my dream. My chest heaves, and my heart pounds wildly as I struggle to calm my breathing.
It’s only a nightmare, I tell myself. But it feels so real.
I look toward the window and it’s dark, but I can hear voices outside. Gradually, I get out of bed and creep over to the curtain, drawing it back slightly. The small glowing tip of a cigarette is the only light I can see. Guards are waiting underneath my window. I hurry back to bed and pull the covers over my head.
The painful memories from last night keep me company while I hide. All I can think about are my father’s confession about his role in the Bratva and the cruel way my mother died to save me.
What kind of world am I about to bring my baby into?
My mind spins as I try to make sense of everything that’s altered my dull life into something I could never imagine. I thought my father was innocent. I thought Nikolai was wrong. The weight of both their secrets crushes me.
I don’t know who I want to believe anymore. I struggle to put my feelings into thoughts. How can I possibly begin to process the truth about my father? The man who raised me, who I thought I knew better than anyone else, is not the person I thought he was.
He’s a stranger who claims to love me.
All the things Dad told me as a child were lies. My mother didn’t die of cancer. She was shot while saving me. And Dad is not a tech businessman. He’s a part of the Starukhin Bratva—the Avtoritet, whatever that means.
I thought I knew my secure little world, but I didn’t. Everything is upside down and inside out.
And now … this baby …
It feels like I’m being pulled in two different directions. Love for my father breaks my heart while my love for Nikolai threatens to shatter it. I need time to think and figure out what to do. But do I have enough time?
I get out of bed and slip on a bathrobe that Larissa left on the easy chair. She slips in and out of the room unseen, making sure I have everything I need. Suddenly, my heart freezes, and I spin around. Good. The phone is still on the bedside table. The screen reads 2:00 a.m., and I sit down to make another call.
“Yeah. Who is this?” Mercy’s no-shit, tough-girl accent instantly reassures me. She sounds like she’s been up for hours, and I can hear bar sounds in the background—glass clinking, people talking, and sports announcer giving a play-by-play.
My voice trembles slightly. “Mercy? I need to talk to you.”
Her voice is instantly loaded with worry. “Edie? My God, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Her words are rapid-fire. “Where are you? Are you okay? Are you still with Starukhin? Talk to me!”
“I’m safe.” My voice is firm. “And you can help by answering some questions.”
“Okay, give me a sec.” Wherever Mercy is, she moves to a quieter room, and I hear a door slam in the background. “All right, what do you want to know?”
I pause, gathering my nerves into words. “Did you know about my dad, Mercy? The truth.”
“I don’t know everything.” She sighs dramatically and then speaks. “But I do know that Michael Clark is not as dull as he pretends to be.”
I don’t speak Dad’s real name. I don’t want to hear it anymore. “How much do you know?”
Her tone softens. “I thought Clark was a low-level player or maybe a caporegime like my dad. But that’s about it. But it sounds like he isn’t, is he?”
“No,” I reply. “He was the Avtoritet.”
“What the hell is that?”
