AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When I tilt my head at Liza, she gives me a subtle shake of her head.Oh-kay.Clearly, I’ve been out of the gossip loop in this city for far too long.
"So, shall we get to shopping?” Roman rubs his hands together like he’s been waiting all day for the pleasure of retail therapy.
I pull myself to my full height of five feet, two inches. “We will. As in, Liza and myself. I suggest you and your men go grab some coffee or the blood of angels, whatever it is that you drink, and leave us in peace.”
“No can do.” He shrugs apologetically. “My job is to keep you safe from harm, and I can’t do that on a coffee break.”
When I bristle at his words, Liza mumbles under her breath, “Who’s going to keep you safe when you piss off Kira?”
Roman can’t be swayed. I’m sure Maxim gave him explicit instructions to watch my every move—whether to keep me safe or because he doesn’t trust me. Likely both. But it’s clear Roman isn’t going anywhere.
I gesture around us. “Do what you need to. We have some shopping to do.”
Roman settles on one of the nearby settees, being fawned over by the female staff desperate to offer him a cappuccino, while his men fan out throughout the store.
Liza pulls me deeper into the boutique, where the evening wear is hung in elegant rows. When we’re out of earshot, she points at my wedding ring and whisper-hisses, “Explain!”
“Keep it down,” I say, busying my hands with rummaging through the racks.
When one of the many store assistants comes over, I scare them away with a sharp shake of my head. I dare a glimpse upwards and see Roman is already on his phone while the other guards are out of earshot. So I tell Liza exactly how and why I got myself into this mess.
She scrunches her forehead. "I still don't understand why you had to marry him.”
“It was the only way to get close enough to figure out what role he actually played in Masha’s murder,” I whisper. “And to get my revenge if it comes to that.”
Liza’s eyes go wide, and she practically drops the skirt she’s been admiring, staring at me like I’m mentally unbalanced. Which, frankly, maybe I am.
“I love purple on you,” I say loudly. “It really brings out your?—”
“You’re going to get yourself killed. I know how much your aunt meant to you and how devastating it’s been, but you have to let it go and get on with your life. Go back to New York. Go back to… Well, I don’t know what, but leave here and forget about what my drunkass father told you.”
“It’s too late.” I hold up the rock weighing down my fingers. “I have to see this plan through. I understand if you can’t help me, but I’m not changing my mind.”
"Jesus," she curses, shaking her head.
I get a sense of déjà vu, but this time, we're not talking about sneaking out of the window to get drunk with the boys at the adjacent boarding school. This is life or death. Maybe it's unfair of me to involve Liza, but I only need information from her—I'd never put her life at risk.
Glancing at Roman, I notice his attention has shifted from his phone to us, which is a bad sign. I quickly grab a few pieces off the hanger and pull Liza into a changing room with me.
I hear Roman’s chuckle on the other side of the door. “Two of you in one changeroom. Is that a girl thing?”
“Yes,” I bark. “In case I need help with a zipper. And so she can give her opinion without me leaving here.”
“I actually might have a valuable opinion. You know, I’m often told that I dress very dapper?—”
Liza, looking as intense as I've ever seen her, wrenches open the door, stopping him mid-sentence. "I'm sure you know exactly what's appropriate for Kira, but unless you can tell me the designer on the latest cover ofVogueor the shade of green that's selling out the runways right now, we don’t need you to weigh in."
I'm stunned for a moment, impressed by my usually restrained friend's forceful response. I brace for a sharp retort.
"Sheesh, touchy," Roman mutters before wandering away.
“Girl, that was amazing,” I say after she shuts the door, but she’s still focused on our earlier conversation.
She drags her eyes up to meet mine and rubs her temples. “I don’t understand,” she says. “If Maxim is Alyona’s father, why did he wait until she was in her twenties to contact her?”
I release a weighty sigh because it’s complicated, but if I’m going to be asking for her help, she deserves to know the truth—all of it.
"Maxim and Alyona's mom had a fling. She was older, married to Aly's dad, but it happened and nobody knew. Aly's family moved to the States when she was a baby, and Maxim never learned he had a kid.” I pause, letting the gravity of the story sink in. “He discovered Aly was his daughter when she was a teen. He wrote to Aly’s mom, and they made a deal. Maxim would stay away until she turned twenty-five so she could have a normal life. After that, all bets were off.”
