Page 9 of Disguised as Love

I suddenly, desperately, needed for the bratva to consider the Leskov princess just that?useless.

Raisa

HEAVY

“Why is everything so heavy?

Holding on,

To so much more than I can carry.”

Performed by Linkin Park w/ Kiiara

Written by Bennington / Bourdon

Outside the car, Ilia started his countdown in Russian. I had felt safe with him, knowing he’d once protected my father, knowing Papa wouldn’t send just anyone. But now my father was dead. The insinuation that my brother was behind his death was both heartbreaking and terrifying because Malik had grown colder and colder over the last few years. I hardly recognized him anymore. He was not the free-spirited?but moody?boy I’d grown up with. That boy had loved to dance by the pond and draw pictures of fantastical birds he’d imagined. The new Malik was into money, drugs, and sex.

Beyond the door, Ilia continued his countdown.

With effort, I dragged my eyes away from the intense look Special Agent Cruz Malone…Antonne…was still directing at me. One that unnerved me. That made me feel like I wasn’t wearing any clothes. As if he could see every single part of me inside and out.

As I pushed open the door, Ilia slid over the hood, putting himself between me and the car.

He flashed me a look. “He hurt you?”

I shook my head, knowing I should explain Special Agent Malone’s presence but unable to do so without blowing his cover.

“We have to go back to St. Petersburg,” I said instead.

I heard Malone’s door slam shut, and Ilia twisted until he had his gun trained on the agent’s massive chest.

“We not go back,” Ilia commanded. “Not ever. Those are my orders.”

“Well, as Papa is dead, his orders are no longer relevant,” I said calmly. It jerked Ilia’s gaze from Special Agent Malone to me. I was already exhausted from keeping up the front, from hiding the tears I wanted to shed because I’d never again feel my father’s arms wrapped around me. I’d no longer hear the pride in his voice when I talked about how I was revolutionizing energy for the world. My throat closed as emotions threatened to flood out.

“Is that what this svoloch told you? He lies.” Ilia’s gun shifted downward in surprise, but fear flashed through his eyes as well.

“There’s one way to find out. We’ll go back to the house, and I’ll call Mama.”

I moved away at a quick pace before either of them could stop me, heading toward my home. My sanctuary. The place I’d been able to just be me in a way I’d never been anywhere else?ever. In Russia, wherever I went, I was not only Petya Leskov’s daughter, but I was also Manya-the-supermodel’s. The expectations of how I should look and talk required me to keep the science I loved hidden below the surface for years. At Stanford, I was the complete opposite of that person. Instead, I was a professor and scientist. A professional who had a very different image to uphold. I had to play down my femininity…my looks…my style. But in my little home, I could be the person who was both the professional and the very feminine daughter of a model. The person who listened to romance audiobooks, and watched black-and-white movies, and believed in love regardless of how I’d teased Georgie about it earlier. I’d seen real love. Not only in Georgie’s relationship with Mac but in my parents’.

I used my key to open the door, and both men followed me inside.

I picked up my phone from the side table and hit Mama’s name in my contacts. It was nearly ten o’clock in the morning in Russia. Normally, Mama would barely be awake and taking tea in bed with a tray of glossy magazines she’d consume like they were pastries.

“Raechka.” The endearment came out scratchy and thin as if she’d been crying. As if she’d been drinking when she rarely did anymore because of her past and Papa’s desire to live a healthy life. My stomach fell, and my eyes filled with tears I refused to shed in front of the men standing before me. Crying wasn’t a weakness I could afford.

“Mamochka, tell me…it can’t be true,” I said because through the entire time with Special Agent Malone on the street, I’d been hoping, wishing, praying that it was just another lie told to try and get me to spill the beans on my father.

“He…he fell into his soup…oh God…he’s really gone…” Her Russian was broken with English as if she was having trouble determining which language to speak.

“I’m coming,” I said quietly.

Mama sniffled on the other end. “He said it wasn’t safe. He told me you would not be back for a long time.”

I swallowed hard. Malone’s crude and graphic image of what could happen to me if I stepped foot in Russia had been right on the money. There were people who would use me for what was in my brain and would not care what they did to my body to make it happen. My heartbeat increased until I thought it might stampede out of my chest.

Dare I go back? I looked at Special Agent Malone and Ilia both standing as if they were at ease when they were both really wound tight, every muscle ready to jump. Malone’s gaze was still on me, and Ilia was glaring at the man who’d taken him out.

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