Page 38 of Brutal Secrets

“You said you didn’t want a relationship with her.” She just holds my hands and waits, her gaze steady and brave.

“I don’t,” I confirm.

She swallows, but she keeps her composure. There’s something touching about her bravery in the face of all of this.

When I got to the US, I did what I needed to do to protect her, and then I’d pushed her to the back of my mind. When I did think of her, it was as a star belting out love songs in skimpy clothes. I got used to walking out of the room when her songs came on so that no one could see how I felt. But I didn’t give in to the temptation to think about her often, and only when I was alone, at night, under the covers.

She’s still just as beautiful.

Maybe more so.

“I’ve been a good mother. She’s brave because everyone in my world has her back. Since you don’t want to be part of that, I won’t tell her who you are.”

Sighing, I drop her hands and lean back, looking at the roof of the car. I want to touch her as much as I ever did. All the layers just make me want to strip them away, but I need to put her off.

“It’s a shame you didn’t tell lover boy back at the club that he needed to keep his mouth shut. No one would have known she was mine if he’d had the sense to keep schtum, but he was ranting about what a bad father I was.”

She nods, and her lips thin. She’s working hard to keep it together, so I resist the temptation to keep touching her, but god I want to. I want to so much.

“Okay. I’ll tell him he’d better not say another word. He’ll listen, but I gather you don’t wish us ill, even if”—she takes a deep breath and sits up a little straighter—“you don’t wish to be part of our lives.”

“That’s right. It’s all bad timing. There are some... Well, the less you know. As I said.”

“Was it anything to do with the pretty redhead I saw you with?” She’s a quick study to have taken in so much that night. Or perhaps she’s just jealous. Either way, I don’t respond to her question.

“If you give me the address of your place upstate, I can have one of my men look it over to see if it’s safe.”

“It’ll just be the three of us.”

“Three of you. Who else is there?” I’ve kept tabs on her over the years. Surely there’s not a man I don’t know about.

“Nona, our housekeeper.”

“Oh, the Georgian woman? Okay. Well, the food will be good if she’s with you. I suppose she can come to the safe house with you if it comes to that.” I shrug, pretending I had nothing to do with who she hired to look after the kid I hadn’t admitted, even to myself, was mine.

“How did you know she was Georgian?” Her green gaze holds questions. I don’t tell her that Nona worked for Antonov back in Moscow and we’ve crossed paths before. I don’t tell her that I was the one who paid a visit to the Upper Westside Nannies and made sure that Nona was at the top of the list of recruits for the nanny job.

“I’ve had a few guys watching you since we met at the club. Checking to see if there was any danger. So far, so good, but we don’t want to push our luck. If we can get you to a safe house or out of town for a week or two until some of the tension dies down, that would be better.”

“I’ll tell Nadia that you’re Nona’s nephew.”

“Hopefully I won’t be there and it won’t matter.”

I don’t ask what she’s told my daughter about me. I’ve listened to her album about gold and beauty and love bringing her back to herself. It doesn’t tally with my recollections of her meeting a rough gangster who ravaged her body in a run-down cottage in the woods.

She doesn’t say anything more, but her eyes are shiny. She looks out the rear window and swipes a tear away from one eye with the sleeve of her gray sweatshirt. If she’d been angry or crying hysterically, it would have been less moving. There’s something about her quiet dignity and her attempt to keep her feelings under wraps that twists my guts. I can’t help myself as I pull her twined hands up to my mouth and press a kiss to her knuckles.

“I’m sorry, zolotaya. You don’t deserve to have your life turned upside down. I’ll do my best to be kind. For the kid’s sake.”

She nods and inches away from me on the back seat, but I grip her hands tighter.

“And for yours. Truly, I’m sorry,” I say. “I never wanted you to be part of this mess.”

I lean over and press another kiss to her forehead, and she stills. We sit like that for what feels like an hour but is probably only a minute. Then she pulls away from me. Her scent of jasmine and roses lingers in the air between us.

“Be ready to go in the morning,” I say as she opens the door.

She exits the car and walks away down the alley. I follow her with my eyes until I see the door open at the base of the fire escape and light floods the dark street. She steps inside, back to another life. One I should never be part of.

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