Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Cut the crap, Si—” At the jitter of turbulence, he snatched my hand. That had to be an automatic response. After seconds of bouncing around in my father’s superjet, his hand released mine.
“Mid-Atlantic Range,” I noted.
He offered what my American cousin described as the stinky eye. Nyet. The … stink eye.
Clearing my throat, I explained, “Turbulence often comes from mountains. In our situation? It’s the Mid-Atlantic range—an underwater mountain. This has also happened to me while journeying through the Himalayas. The Swiss Alps.”
“You’ve been all those …” Jake mumbled, trailing off, “it figures.”
“I climb. Helps me think.” I slipped thick strands of hair behind my ear. “You don’t travel?”
“Your family thinks ours is uncultured. Savage Scots. Let’s—”
“Mm-hmm, savage.” My tongue ran seductively over my lip.
“—keep it that way,” he finished, mouth set in a perpetual angry line. “Baran confirmed a hacker reworked the corrupted footage. Lorenzo Ferri is on video footage near The Red Door. He murdered Baran’s brother—”
“Borya—”
“What?” Jake shifted in his seat.
“Borya. Baran’s brother was Borya. Lorenzo murdered and framed Borya.”
His mouth quivered with barely restrained violence. He cut himself from the clan, acting like he and his family were different. Da, we Resnovs were polished, dressed in suits. But why stare at me like I was frost itself?
Because, Sima, you love yourself. Natasha. Tetya Zariah. Mama.
That wasn’t true. I just didn’t understand my father, or Baby Luka, or the twins. Okay, I understood the twins. Self-absorbed matryoshkas.
Jake blinked. “Why are we handling this? Call your father and uncle. They’ll grab your cousin, treat Lorenzo to a long, slow death, and leave my family out of it.”
Because I … My features schooled too neutral. “Why do you ask me questions?”
Jake scoffed.
I answered my ringing phone.
Papa … no. This was something Natasha did countless times. Just answered every call. “Da, Simeon?”
“You. Have. My. Jet.”
“Just for a few days. Quick vacation. Might end sooner if the guy I met”—I winked at Jake— “removes his Prince Charming mask.”
“Zamolchi!” He ordered me to shut up. “The Mikhailov family’s protection is beneficial for both you and your cousin, Natasha. Is there something you wish to tell me …”
My hand worked the stiff muscles along the nape of my neck. “Da. I wanted you to know that she will not marry Edik. Nor will I wed Rurik Mikhailov. Pawn them off on your other daughters. Brothers marrying twins. Fabulous!”
If I were anyone else … this conversation and me would’ve been ended long ago.
He muttered under his breath, similar to Jake at my side.
Somehow, the sentiment I’d abandoned in my youth softened my tone. “Papa …”
Silence filled the air. Then my father’s voice became rich and throaty with the concern I once embraced when I’d skinned my knee while learning to ride a bike. Or when my bottom lip quivered because I wasn’t as proficient in Japanese. He’d tell me he was proud of me in a tone draped in love, pride, velvet. “Da, Simona?”
“We will wait a few days for the MacKenzies to bring Natasha back?” Even if she stays silent, not answering my calls, I still offer her this favor. A debt is a debt. The air locked in my chest while I awaited his response.
“Nyet. They shot at Natasha! They are trying to murder her, Sima. They have murdered Borya. The politsiya just fished out his body. They must pay!”
“They did not.”
“Who, then?”
“I’ll inform you soon. Please just lay off the Scots until I return with your jet.”
“Nyet. Nyet. Nyetttttt! Do not ask of me impossible feats, Simona!” He hung up.
I glanced out of the window to hide my embarrassment at this conversation.
I received a text from Vassilievich.
VASS: I’m watching the girl.
Me: Good. Keep your distance unless necessary.
With a frown, I pocketed the phone. Had I gone too far? Abducting Baby MacKenzie? Requesting my cousin stalk Leith’s daughter, Mia? Nyet. If she had her father’s gorgeous features, Vassili would enjoy the game. Nonetheless, he’d sounded different when I called him today. Colder than his usual warm, approachable self.
“Simona?” Jake spoke up, his voice low and laced with unspoken curiosity.
“Da.” My attention remained on the tiny window. Through the glass, however, I glimpsed something in his reflection … concern?
Nyet. Foolish, Sima.
“You should’ve mentioned the footage! Proof Lorenzo Ferri murdered Natasha’s guard, before it’s wiped.”
“He …” My heated eyes fixed on the fast-moving white vapor. “His IQ is off the charts. He’d require facts. Lots to keep him from your family after what Dyadya Vassili’s guards alleged. We bring him facts, Baby MacKenzie.”
Instead of the growl I’d grown fond of, Jake murmured, “Simeon won’t believe you? His own daughter?”
Maybe? Maybe not? I blinked hard. A tear fell, a visual of my weakness.
Years had passed since I’d given my father the choice to trust me. Not since my father protected me as a child. From a Mikhailov. Our greatest enemies. Maybe he should’ve fed me to the wolves then, instead of later offering them my heart … and Natasha’s.