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I hesitate. My legs feel weak as the dread continues to climb. I sink onto the cushions, and my gaze never leaves his stony expression. Nikolai sits beside me, and I’m relieved when I see his gaze. His expression isn’t so severe any longer, and I take comfort in that.
Maybe he does want to communicate. To understand my viewpoint. To hear a logical explanation, if there is one.
“I kept the photo because it’s the only one where my father is smiling.” He trails off, then starts over. “And I don’t remember much from the day it was taken.”
“But why is my father there?” My voice cracks, but I stay strong. I have to make him tell me everything to prove it. I’m going to prove to myself that this is all bullshit. “Why was he in the Poconos?”
“There’s a private campsite in the Poconos.” His voice turns somber as he speaks. “It’s where the East Coast Bratvas go talk out their differences before things get too heated. A final place for diplomacy before all-out war.”
I shake my head. “But why is my father there?”
My question must have goaded Nikolai because his voice becomes harsher. “Because your father, Zakhar Budanov, was my father’s Avtoritet before he turned against us. Against my family.”
Avtori-what? What is he saying? Zakhar Budanov? No! My father’s is Michael Clark. He’s an honest man. A good man!
“You’re lying!” I shout, jumping to my feet. “He’s not who you say he is!”
Nikolai stands up and grabs my arms. His grip is firm but not painful. “Look at the photo, Eden! Is that not your father?”
I look again, and it’s unmistakable that it’s Dad. But how?
“This is proof that I’ve been telling you the truth this entire time,” Nikolai whispers.
“No!” I shout. “Let go of me.” I struggle against him, desperate to break free.
He remains quiet and still. But his grip tightens on my arms, and his eyes lock on mine. It’s like Nikolai is searching for something deep inside me. The way he stares at me makes me tremble, but nothing will make me believe that my father is a dangerous criminal. There is no way I’ll believe that twisted lie.
I stop fighting him, but my anger doesn’t subside.
“It doesn’t make sense …”
“Doesn’t it?” Frowning, Nikolai stares at the photograph. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s why he’s kept you hidden all these years. You told me yourself about the one night when someone came to the house. He’s been hiding from the Bratvafor years.” Nikolai’s eyes show pity, and I hate the look he gives me. “And now he’s come out of hiding because of you.”
“Stop it!” I shout. “My father is not the man you think he is.”
Nikolai releases me and walks toward a golden metal bar cart. He looks down at the crystal bottles, examining the labels while he speaks. “Your father’s past is catching up to him, putting you in danger. I wish I were lying, Eden. But I’m not. This engagement—it was a ploy to draw Zakhar out of hiding. He’s thrown in with the Lanzzare Mafia and is working against us now. Against me.”
“No.” I shake my head quickly. “I don’t believe you. You’re wrong about that.”
Nikolai’s gaze holds mine, unwavering. “I’m not,” he replies.
“You are,” I whisper.
He thinks I’m talking about my dad. But I’m not. Is our engagement only a strategy to Nikolai? I knew from the start love had nothing to do with any of it, but then things changed. He changed. I thought we were teaming up to figure it all out. I thought he wanted the truth, and I could prove it. I never thought of myself as only bait. Not now.
I’m not sure how to feel. Betrayed? Hurt? Angry? Sad? I don’t know. I don’t feel anything except maybe disappointment. My mind is numb, and I can’t focus on anything other than Nikolai’s green eyes piercing me.
“Eden …” Nikolai starts, but I interrupt him.
“Stop!” I snap, tears rising in my eyes. “Stop trying to hurt me.”
Nikolai reaches out for me, but I flinch away from his touch, scooting over to the opposite end of the couch.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I hiss.
I want him to keep his distance. I don’t want to be near him right now. Not when he’s lying to me. I hate the look on his face. It makes me want to slap him.
“So now that you found out what you wanted,” I say, “you can let me go, right?”
