Page 45 of Brutal Secrets

“As long as I’m there. I don’t think she’s too keen on any one-on-one time with you two, so do as I say and nobody needs to get hurt.”

Reaching slowly toward him, I hold out my hand. “The name is Vadim, and my friend over there is Andrei. You’re welcome to use our nicknames, but if you’re trying to make Kesera comfortable, that might not be the best way to go about it.”

“Well, telling her to take her kid and meet a guy with a tattoo on his neck in a diner wasn’t the best move either. You need to work on your technique, man.” He grins at me, walks to the gate, and taps in a code.

Great. I didn’t peg this guy for a love interest. He’s at least a decade older than me, but he’s in good shape, she answers his calls, and he’s got her door code. It makes me antsy. I don’t know what kind of men she likes. I don’t know nearly enough about her.

Andrei walks over to the car, and I fire up the engine and slam the door. As the gates swing open and I drive up the winding road to the house, my headache returns and my heart starts to race. It’s not just the fact that I didn’t get enough sleep, because there in front of me, clearly visible through a copse of birch trees, is a pale-green and white wooden house that is a near-exact replica of our cottage in the woods outside Moscow. The dacha where I spent hours learning the taste and feel of every inch of Kesera’s body.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The screen door bangs and feet pound the floorboards as Dex stomps across the room, takes me by the shoulders, and gives them a squeeze. I slant my eyes toward the doorway where Vadim stands looking stunned, his gaze bouncing between the Russian fairy tale prints on the wooden walls, the Uzbek embroidery thrown over the sofas, and the central Asian rugs on the floors. I designed the whole house to look like an upscale version of the cottage where we conceived Nadia.

Vadim swallows hard, and the color drains from his face. He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“You okay, kiddo?” Dex’s kind eyes look down at me, their edges crinkled with years of sunshine and smiling.

I glance between him and Vadim, glad I have someone in my corner too. Whatever he’s seen in the army and since, I’m always happy that Dex was around for me once my fame blew up. It’s been good to have someone I trust run my security, and right now it’s even better to have a big burly man run interference between me and Vadim.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine. Nona’s in the kitchen making coffee and breakfast, and Nadia’s either still asleep or glued to a screen.” I look over at the corridor and the closed bedroom doors as Dex pulls me toward a sofa and presses my shoulders. I sit, and he takes his place beside me.

“Why don’t you gentlemen come in, take a seat, and we can have a chat about the security situation.” Dex picks up his gun and waves it at the two armchairs facing the sofa.

Vadim walks slowly over to one, collapsing into it and scrubbing his face with his hands like he’s trying to wake up from a dream. Or maybe he feels like it’s a nightmare. Either way, it’s not my problem. My only concern now is our daughter.

I glance at his friend and wave my hand to the younger guy with the spiderweb climbing up his neck. “Take a seat,” I point at the armchair, and he grins back at me.

“This crib is totally sweet. It’s so cool. I bet the head of our—” He stumbles over the next word. “Organization...would lose his mind if he saw it. It’s just like the village houses near Moscow.” He looks thrilled, while Vadim looks like he might throw up.

Vadim shakes his head at me. “What’s going on, Kesera?” His arm sweeps in an arc, pointing at the Russian décor. “What is all this?”

“This is our weekend place.” I play it straight, deliberately ignoring his point. “But we aren’t here to talk about my taste in furnishings. I called Dex because he’s my head of security and he runs things on our tours. He helped me design the setup here, and if there’s a threat to myself or Nadia, then I’d like to plan the next steps with someone on my payroll.”

My voice sounds firm, stressing the word payroll in the hope that I come across like a strong businesswoman and not a lovesick fool who built a shrine to the bastard who fathered her child and then never got in touch.

I’m clasping my hands together to stop their trembling. I have no reason to feel shaken after the shocks of the last few days. I could simply be worried about security and not feeling heartsick. The less I give away at the moment, the better.

I remind myself I don’t know who I’m dealing with. The man who made me feel so cherished in Moscow has nothing to do with the man sitting on the chair opposite me, looking shell-shocked.

“I don’t understand.” Still looking slightly dazed, Vadim shakes his head.

Okay, I need to stop this nonsense. “No, I’m the one who doesn’t understand. If you’re serious about keeping us safe, then we both need to know what’s going on.”

Vadim looks over at Dex, assessing him coolly before seeming to come to a decision. He nods to himself, then addresses the man sitting next to me on the sofa.

“I made a sentimental decision to help someone the other night. In doing so, I set off a fight with a very senior figure in the Italian Mafia. My boss is a very dangerous man, and he’s angry too. Exactly what that might mean, we aren’t sure yet.” He pauses and looks over at his young sidekick, who shrugs.

“Nadia has school, and I have an ongoing court case in the southern district of New York. Do I need to make a plan to leave town on Monday, or can we sit tight and try to disrupt Nadia’s life as little as possible?” I’m pleased with how composed and businesslike I sound, but that falls apart with his next words.

“It depends on how many people know she’s my daughter.”

“Will you keep your voice down?” I hiss. “The most important thing at this juncture is that she doesn’t know, and unless you’re planning on sticking around, I’m not about to tell her.”

Vadim’s face is a picture of horror, and I turn to see where he’s looking. Nadia stands in the doorway, her legs sticking out of fluffy pink pajamas that are too short for her. She adjusts her grip on her favorite stuffed dog toy.

“Whose daughter am I?”

Chapter Thirty

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