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“And you, too. I mean I have no idea what they feed anyone in an NYC jail, but I can imagine you weren’t eating borscht or blini.”
Someone stifles a gasp. Oops. Guess I shouldn’t have said that.
“Vodka. I want vodka. But I doubt they have that here and I need to stay alert, so I’ll get something hot and be fine with it. What do you want, Aria?”
I look at the menu and mull it over. I’m starving, but nothing here appeals to me. I barely know what I’m pointing at when I ask for something hot, but the tray of macaroni and cheese with a side of grilled chicken and roasted broccoli looks mildly appetizing.
“I’ll take the same.”
We’re completely alone in the center of the large cafeteria with our food and drinks. Mikhail grabbed four different types of cakes and a pile of cookies at the checkout.
“Polina will be happy.”
“Perhaps the baby will, too. Polina won’t eat all this.”
Why is he being all sweet?
Does he know what I do?
Does he know what I’ve done?
I open my mouth to ask him when he gives me a stern shake of his head. He’s so hot even sitting in a flimsy plastic chair under the glare of fluorescent overhead lights. Even with his hand bandaged and his clothes rumpled. I love him so much my heart aches.
“Eat first, Aria. Put some food in you, then we will talk.”
It’s only been a short time since we’ve been together, but I’d made the decision to leave. When I don’t eat right away and he gives me that one-brow-lifted look, though, I realize that I would miss this so much. Even his hard-ass, grumpy temperament. I’ve never had anyone in my life to take care of me the way he does, to watch over my most basic needs. There’s a lump in my throat when I think about the little nap nook he built in his office for me. The way he carried me in his own two arms, swearing off paramedics, and insisted I get medical attention.
I nod and eat, because it’s the sensible thing to do as he checks his phone for updates on his family. While it’s nowhere near the best food I’ve ever had, I remember what my mother used to say when she served hot ramen. “Hunger makes everything taste delicious.”
It does indeed.
“Are you feeling better?” he asks, pushing his completely empty tray to the side. He eats with brutal efficiency, likely a throwback to his military days.
“From hunger? Yeah.”
I twist the plastic lid on my iced tea to still my trembling hands.
“Your mother managed to obtain so many of Volkov’s devices, I was able to hack into them and discover what’s really been at play here.”
The lift of his brows shows mild surprise. “Did she? And she came to you?”
“Yes. She trusts me. Probably was afraid that you’d nuclear bomb Volkov or something.”
He doesn’t deny it but seems to be thinking this over. “I see. Go on.”
I lick my lips and swallow. I have to address everything with Tatiana, but I need to tell him all of this first. “When I came to you, I’d unearthed a scandal unlike any in American history. The Epstein scandal, you remember that? What I stumbled upon was so much worse. Multiply that a hundredfold. You told me at the time I didn’t know your enemies, but the truth is, I did. I do. I might not know all of them and I hope I never will. The World Independent Leadership Consortium – WILCo -- funded this crime ring, Mikhail.”
He nods. “I know. Aleks took the lead after you came to me and found every detail he could.”
I blink. Aleks?
“I looked through Volkov’s data, and his attack on us? It wasn’t him at all. WILCo was tipped off by Volkov, but the dates on communications I’ve witnessed show me he basically gave us over to them after our wedding. Yes, he’s senile, there’s nodenying that, and he has a vendetta against you. But my going to jail and the attack on the house?”
“WILCo.”
“You weren’t to blame, Aria. Aleks released intel intentionally as a power move during the strengthening of our Bratva. We made it very clear you were part of this family now.”
I feel my shoulders sag in relief. “I didn’t bring them to all of you? Oh, God, Mikhail. I thought it was me. I thought they were trying to get tome.”
