Page 73 of Ruthless Love

“Father? Is there something I can do for you?”

He steps forward, offering me a seat on one of the elegant vintage chairs while he takes the one next to it. I sit, not entirely sure why he’s here. I mean, undoubtedly, he’s here to officiate the wedding. But why is this man in my room, unless Dimitri has the audacity to force a confession upon me?

From an invisible pocket hidden along the front of his robe, he pulls out a small unmarked cylinder. He keeps it in his palm but presses it until it clicks. Displaying it to me, he speaks with a charming faint accent, a far cry from the thick Russian accent of Dimitri and his staff.

“We can speak freely now, but we need to sit this way to keep anyone watching from reading our lips.”

Cautious, I ask, “What would we need to speak freely about, Father?” I don’t know if this is a trick or a trap, and my overwhelming need to trust this man is swatted away by my mind.

Trust no one.

The knowing smile that fills his expression manages to lift the suffocating concerns that constrict me. “We have a few mutual friends. I don’t know Austin, but he seems nice. Coop, I’m getting to know, despite his smart attempts to steer clear of the spotlight. But the real reason I’m here is Margot.”

“Margot?” I blurt out my confusion in a string of choppy questions, needing answers to every one of them. “How? What? Margot’s involved? Is there anyone at all not keeping secrets from me?”

His face grows more handsome as he tugs the collar from his neck, and his smile is absolutely disarming. “Let’s just say that Margot was worried about you. And I realize Austin is part of Mav’s party, but if there’s one thing I love to do, it’s crash a party. But I want to know what you want. Hear it from your own lips. Tell me, my child,” he says with an air of mischief. “If you had one wish, what would it be?”

Chapter Forty-Five

AUSTIN

“Goddammit, Mav. Have you switched those camera feeds yet or what?”

“Trust me.” Her words come out with a rehearsed Russian accent that’s so deplorable, no wonder she strayed from field work into management. “Swapping feeds unnoticed is a little more sophisticated that you might think. We spliced images of when Evie was in the room and brightened them to match this time of day. We’re all set, so all anyone sees is the old footage of your girl. But, Austin, she’s not alone. No threat detected, but proceed with caution.”

“No threat detected? Really?”

“You’ll have to figure this one out on your own. Good luck,” she sings before hanging up.

I hate how much that woman always manages to get under my skin. Though there’s probably some twisted side of her that knows how much the anticipation fuels my soul with kerosene and dynamite.

The compact 9 mm rests comfortably in my pocket, and my finger slips over the trigger. Turning the doorknob quietly, I enter without knocking.

Evie and a priest turn to look at me, and both stand when I enter.

“It’s all right, Evie. You can come here.” My hard words are controlled but insistent, and she flies into my arm—the one not tethered to the handgun.

To ease her concerns, and unbothered by the priest, I kiss her head but keep my eyes on the man I thought I might know, but don’t.

Is he the inside man? I can’t imagine Dimitri has found any sort of real religion. That, and when the man rose to his feet, I caught a glimpse of the telltale red undersides of what has to be a two-thousand-dollar pair of loafers. Between his shoes, his manicured nails, and bright white veneers that are the trademark of Beverly Hills, this man is no priest.

“No need for the gun, Mr. Byrne,” he says, glancing at my pocket. “I’m on your side. You and Evie’s. Since you’re here, I presume Mav switched the feed, and we can relax.”

“You work for Mav?”

“Not in this life.” Chuckling, he adds quietly, “In case she’s still listening. She might be a mastermind, and I’m no Mav, but I’ve got a hunch you’ll like my plan better.”

“Is that so, Father?”

“That’s so,” he says with a smug confidence that’s damn likable. “We’re going to need a pen. And please, call me Paco.”

Chapter Forty-Six

EVIE

For the first time in my life, I cling to my father for actual support. My hand clutching his arm, I barely notice the guests on the lawn, seated in white fold-out chairs on both sides of a makeshift aisle. A quartet plays the Wedding March, the music sophisticated and pleasant, filling the air with a familiar tune that settles my frayed nerves.

With a deep breath, I take a step toward Dimitri. Although his tuxedo was custom tailored, I can still make out his shoulder holster, barely outlined by the expensive fabric of his jacket. I swallow hard, hiding the knot of fear that threatens to choke me.

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