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We arrived in New York yesterday, and later this afternoon, we’re to attend a private wine auction for the first of Maxim’s counterfeit wines. Of course, I’ll be there on his arm, drawing in all the media buzz our honeymoon is guaranteed to attract. A juicy tidbit to distract from the real story. They call it “wagging the dog” in politics, and Maxim is nothing if not a master politician.
The door to the balcony opens, and I know it's him standing there, watching me. I'm never not aware of Maxim's eyes on me. It's like his stare is weighted with an intensity I can’t ignore.
He’s going to tell me that we have to leave for the auction soon, but I don't turn around, pulling the shawl tighter around my shoulders. He doesn't say anything either. Only watches.
Is he worried I’m going to jump? He should be more worried about me pushing him.
“You miss this city?” He settles beside me, resting his forearms beside mine on the railing. Like me, he’s looking straight out over the urban sprawl that leads to the greenery of Central Park.
I nod. “Every damn day.”
“I keep a residence here. We can visit … or you can visit when life is more settled.”
Yeah, right. There will be no settling into this life with him.
He pushes a hand through his tousled hair, and my stomach clenches. He’s all bespoke suits, with ten thousand-dollar cufflinks and a perfect shave on his perfect face. But his eyes. He’s got the devil in his eyes.
After my nightmare, everything came into sharp focus. I can’t sit around and wait to discover the part he played in my aunt’s death, and even though he’s threatened not to let me out of his sight, I’ll find a way to break from him. Because New York is the perfect opportunity for me to dig harder.
Pavel and Roman stayed in Moscow to run things in Maxim’s absence, and we don’t have our usual cadre of guards around us. Not to say we’re unprotected, but things are different in the US. War doesn’t spill onto the streets the same way it does in Moscow—no car bombs or daylight kidnappings off the street.
I know New York like the back of my hand. Over the next week, wherever Maxim goes, I’ll follow. If I meet someone who may have information that I need, I’m going to get it from themone way or another. No more flirty bullshit, like with the mayor. I’ll use any means necessary to get the details I want. Even if it means torture.
Because in New York City, I’m Kira Kozlov. I have connections, and I’m taken seriously. People know what I’m capable of. Even without the support of my brothers, I’m someone here.
I turn to him now, notching my chin up to meet his gaze. “Why aren’t we staying at your place then?”
He gives me a wicked grin. “That’s not very romantic, is it? The penthouse suite of The Ritz-Carlton is what the society papers want to hear about.”
I scoff. “You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet. What's next, a carriage ride through Times Square?"
His mouth twitches. “I’ll consider it. That would definitely make headlines, considering carriages aren’t allowed in Times Square. But I could make it happen … if you really wanted to.”
I roll my eyes. “Trust me, I don’t.” I’m quiet for a moment as I look out at the horizon. “But the one thing I would like to do while we’re here is see Alyona. Without you.”
I thought about it for a long time on the flight over here. Even though she’ll ask questions—questions I can’t answer yet—I miss my best friend. I want her to see that I’m fine. I know she blames herself for the predicament I’m in, and I don’t want her to shoulder that guilt. It’ll be good for her to see me in person, to see that I’m not beaten down and sad.
In fact, knowing that my revenge will come soon is solace. The nightmares that have gripped me these last few years have finally started to lose their hold. Mostly.
Maxim leans his forearms along the railing, continuing to stare out over the city, his eyes not meeting mine. Finally, he clears his throat. “Alyona and Leo are in Italy, scouting places for their wedding.”
My eyebrows pull together. “How in the world do you know that?”
He’s quiet for a long time. So long, I’m sure he’s not going to answer. But he then turns to me, and it’s all I can do not to swallow the lump in my throat because Maxim looks … haunted. Which doesn’t make sense, considering how he treated her, but he’s clearly wrestling with something.
“She’s my daughter, Kira. You don’t think I keep tabs on her?”
I shake my head. “Tabs? What does that mean?”
“It means… Fuck.” He grits his teeth and slams his fist down on the stone ledge. “It means I don't want anything to happen to her because of the life I lead. My enemies will go to any lengths to hurt me. That means she’s a target. At least if she was by my side, I’d know she was safe.”
My nails dig into my palms. “Seems like you should have thought about that before you abducted her and threw a ball in her honor, announcing to the world that she was yours.”
“Word had already gotten out. The Black Company hacked into the DNA-test files that confirmed I was her father. It was only a matter of time before they used her against me.” His smile is brittle, and his voice drops an octave when he says, “I believed she would accept me and this life in time, that she would see the opportunity to rule by my side as a gift.”
“You could have told her all of this rather than taking her against her will and threatening everyone she loved! How did you think that was the better way?”
He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “I've grown used to getting my way with sheer force. It's been a long time since I had to negotiate.” He’s looking at me intensely, and I don’t know why his words send chills up the back of my neck. “I … regret the way I handled it.”
