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Liza looks at me wide-eyed. “That's a crazy story. But it also means Maxim’s your best friend's father. Are you really willing to kill him?”
I take a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Aly hates him, but regardless, if Maxim was involved in Masha’s death, he should be held accountable. I don’t care who he is or how powerful and connected he may be.”
That’s the problem—men like him never answer for their sins. But he will answer to me, if it’s the last thing I do.
“Nothing is worth dying for. Nothing. Masha wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”
“Maybe not,” I acknowledge. “But I can’t let it go.” I’m willing to accept however this is going to end. Even if the end is me staring down the barrel of a gun. I've crossed a line, and there's no turning back now.
Liza studies me closely, like she’s trying to get a read on my mental state. I stare back at her, unflinching, because I’m as clear-headed as I’ve felt in years.
“Fine.” She throws her hands in the air. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”
I smile gratefully. “I need to talk to your father. Can you arrange a meeting or something? I won’t drag you into this more than necessary, but I need to know what he knows.”
She shakes her head. "He's in Poland now and hard to reach. But when he's back, I'll try. He might not even remember what he said."
“He’ll remember,” I assure her.He better.“By the way, do you know what the story is with Maxim’s first wife?”
She blows out a breath that flutters her bangs. “Honestly, she disappeared one day. Whether he had her killed or sent her packing, no one really knows.” Liza chews on her bottom lip as if considering what she’s going to say next. “It’s rumored they had a child together, but I can’t say if it’s true.”
“A child? Aly’s the only child he’s ever spoken of. But he wants me to bear his heirs.” Liza crosses herself, and I can’t help but grin. “It’s okay. I negotiated a one-month delay on anyrelations.”
One month should be long enough for me to figure out Maxim’s involvement in my aunt’s death, but if it’s not… Well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
“Girl, you need to get yourself on birth control,” she nearly shouts. “Birth control he doesn’t know about!”
“Shhh, would you keep it down?”
She’s not wrong. If for some reason I’m still around after a month, I need to ensure I don’t get knocked up by him. I can blame his geriatric sperm for me not getting pregnant. Except, instinctively, I know Maxim’s sperm is far from inferior. I bet he has super sperm; one look from him would impregnate any sad, unsuspecting female in his midst. But I won’t be one of them.
“Do you know a doctor who could get me the pill?”
"I know one. Give me some time, and I can get it for you." Her eyes scan the small changing room stuffed with designer outfits. “We need to pick out a new wardrobe for you.” Liza tosses a sparkly black off-the-shoulder dress at me. “Start with this one.”
As I zip up the dress, I gesture around the room. “Buy whatever you like. In fact, buy whatever you don’t like. I have Maxim’s Amex, and I intend to do some real damage.”
Liza quirks her lips. “You think he’ll notice?”
“He will if we head to the Bugatti dealership after this and get matching convertibles.”
Liza snorts. “Sounds like a plan.”
When the dress is all zipped up, I raise my arms and spin in a what-do-you-think gesture.
She raises her eyebrows. “Smoking hot. We better get you on birth control sooner than later.”
“Please.” I throw my shirt at her head. “Maxim can eat his heart out because I won’t be spreading my legs for that man. Ever.”
After a full day of shopping,I’m exhausted on the drive home. Beside me, Roman navigates Moscow's traffic with ease, expertly weaving through the maze of cars. I'm surprised he opted to drive me personally, and even more so that he allowed me to sit in the front with him. Of course, we're flanked by two other vehicles, and there's no doubt this car is bulletproof.
I’m still trying to figure Roman out. It’s unclear whether he’s actually younger than Pavel, who seems to be in his late thirties, or if he just dresses better. Instead of a suit, Roman’s wearing dark jeans, a charcoal V-neck T-shirt showing off his chest tats, and a worn-in leather jacket. As a part of Maxim’s inner circle, he's by default an enemy, but there’s something about his dimpled smile that makes him hard to dislike.
“Do I have something on my face?” Roman breaks the silence and swipes at his chin.
“No.” I sit up straighter. “You’re fine.”
“Then why are you staring a hole into the side of my head?”
