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Pavel hasn’t wiped that stupid grin off his face. “Whatever you say, boss.”
I don’t know why I feel the need to justify myself. I am the boss, thepakhanof our Bratva, as well as the owner and CEO of The Meridian Casino and Hotel. What I say goes, without question.
So why am I doing it anyway?
“Are you going to give the kid to her father?” Pavel asks.
I know he’s thinking logically; I can’t fault him for that. But I’m about to snap another fucking pen just from him mentioning it. “No. And he’s not to get within fifty yards of her, either. I’m notabout to tear a child away from her loving mother just to hand her over to some abusive excuse for a man.”
Pavel’s brow slowly creeps up his forehead. I have half a mind to smack it back down. “Okay. Protective detail on the kid. Got it.” He leans back in his chair. “So what now?”
“Now…” I stare back out the window as the plan falls together in my head. I don’t like it, but Pavel’s voice reminds me of why I need to do it.
“She has to pay,” he reminds me gently. “For what she did to your brother. So does Everett.”
I nod. “I know. And I know exactly who to call to take care of Clara.”
I hear Pavel gulp. “What about Everett?” he asks.
Despite his disregard for her safety, Everettmusthave some sort of pride in his daughter. I remember the way he kept encouraging her all those years ago, whispering in her ear to tell the truth, standing up for her at the risk of his own career when Tolya’s lawyer intimidated her on the stand.
“Hit him where it hurts. Clara goes first, and he’ll have to watch as I take his family away from him.” I spin the pen in my fingers, then stab it into my desk. “Just like he took mine.”
16
CLARA
I finish counting the money in my bag and tucking it inside all the inner pockets so no one sees it right away if anyone grabs it from me.
I know I’m being paranoid. But I can’t afford not to be.
The door to Willow’s room opens quietly. I tiptoe through the playroom, which is now full of stuffed toys and board games, dolls, and all sorts of things a little girl could ever want. Bambi even ordered her a coloring easel. It stands in the corner with a cheery blank canvas, waiting for her to add splashes of color.
My heart squeezes. I could never give Willow all this, and a part of me feels horribly guilty for taking her away from it.
But I have to keep her safe.
I have to keep her away from Demyen Zakrevsky.
Willow is sound asleep in her new canopy bed, surrounded by more stuffed animals and sunk deep into the softest pillows under a warm blanket. I might be able to fit one of the pillows into my bag, but I need to focus on getting her out.
“Willow, baby…” I gently nudge her arm and stroke her hair. “Sweetheart, wake up.”
It’s well past her bedtime. She groans softly and squints at me. “Mommy? What…?”
“Let’s play a game.” I try to keep my breath steady so she can’t hear the fear dripping in my voice. “Let’s play a fun game.”
“But I’m sleepy, Mommy…”
“I know, baby girl.” I stroke her hair back from her face. “I know. We’ll go see Auntie Roxy and you can sleep there, okay?”
Willow slowly sits up, blinking away her sleep. “But why?”
We don’t have time for this. “Sweetheart, don’t you want to see Auntie Roxy?”
She frowns. “But I like it here. I don’t wanna leave.”
I try to guide her off the bed, but she yanks away from me and stamps her little foot. “No! No, Mommy!”
