Page 75 of Wicked Heiress

Taking the stairs several at a time, I lost my footing and crashed into the metal railing. It stung like a bitch, the pain radiating up my arm. But I had to keep going. There wasn’t a second to waste with Andrey Romanov on my tail.

He had a scar running down the right side of his face and dark ink covering most of his body. I could tell he had done some really bad shit in his lifetime.

At the top of the landing, I gripped the railing to steady myself. Andrey was seconds behind me, but he didn’t bother to reach out for me. Instead, he dipped his hand into his pocket and produced zip ties, snapping them in front of his face.

“Bayushki Bayu,” he sang in a deep tone, a song that often haunted my dreams. “Have you forgotten your favorite song, Katarina?”

I hadn’t heard the song in years. Not since my dad sent me to a psychiatrist specializing in dream therapy. Someone the Colonel knew from his time in the Marine Corps.

After months of waking up screaming, covered in sweat, and my heart pounding out of my chest, the Colonel got me help. I was only eleven years old and had terrible nightmares that felt real. Those memories were a distant remnant of my past.

But as the man sang the familiar song to me, pieces of those dreams flooded back. His Russian accent reminded me of someone from my past. Someone who caused me a lot of sleepless nights.

A blinding pain tore into the right side of my head. My vision blurred, and I had to blink a few times to clear my vision. I saw a man in a suit, not the one cornering me. His cufflinks brushed my cheek as he pushed the hair off my forehead.

I couldn’t see his face, but I heard his voice. He sang Bayushki Bayu, a Russian lullaby. I knew all the words and understood every syllable as he spoke to me in his native tongue.

Sleep, my darling, sleep, my baby, close your eyes, and sleep.

“It is time for you to remember, Katarina,” he said in broken English. “Your father has been looking for you for a very long time. He is not a patient man. Come with me before you hurt yourself.”

As I snapped back to reality, I tried to block out his words. He was using the lullaby to fuck with my head.

I needed a weapon.

Something.

Anything.

Panicked, I smashed my fist through a mirror hanging above a table. My blood dripped onto the floor as I swiped the largest chunk from the pile. I’d never killed a man before. But if it came down to him or me, I would always choose me.

He laughed as I held the shard in front of me, using it to create distance between us. “Kisa, you disappoint me. You wouldn’t kill your uncle.”

I extended the sharpest point at him, teeth gritted. “I don’t even know you.”

He clicked his tongue. “I see they brainwashed you. Leave it to the Americans to turn you against us.” He inched toward me, careful to keep his distance. “Give it time. You will remember Uncle Andrey. Viktor has been searching for you for a very long time. The Devil’s Knights have been hiding you from us. They will suffer for stealing our precious kisa.”

There was something oddly familiar about this man. His scent, maybe? A mixture of pine needles and citrus. It was such an odd combination. I caught a whiff of his natural musk as he moved toward me.

Uncle Andrey.

“Tell me, Uncle Andrey,” I said to gain his attention and make him think I remembered him. “Who is Viktor Romanov?”

“Your father,” he said without hesitation.

“But who is he? Is he a good man? A bad man? Why would The Devil’s Knights hide me from him?”

I knew the truth but wanted to hear it from him.

Andrey took a deep breath, his long fingers gripping the railing as he advanced, forcing me to walk backward with the glass pointed at him. “Viktor is a powerful businessman. In Russia, he is like a tsar. A king among men.”

“Is he dangerous?”

A smirk tipped up the corner of his mouth. “To you? Not at all.”

“Tell me about my biological father. What is he like?”

Deep in thought, Andrey stroked his jaw with his long, tattooed fingers. “He disappointed our father when he went to work for KGB. Our father disowned Viktor. Eventually, my brother got an assignment that brought him to America. He worked in intelligence. It was his job to collect information. When your grandfather exposed Viktor, things got messy.”

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