Page 7 of Devious Knight

He cuts me off with the raise of one large hand and an Arctic look that could freeze hell. “No, Isabelle. We need to talk in private. Now.” His Russian accent is as thick as the tension clinging to the air.

Oh God. This is not gonna be good. “Okay.”

Quickly, I retrieve the ‘gone for a break’ sign and place it on the counter, then, with my soul quivering in terror, I turn to the door that says 'Staff' on my left.

I lead Dad to the break room, thankful to find it empty.

Most of the staff are in the gallery preparing for the next exhibition that will open in a few days.

I close the door and face my father, praying for strength.

“I know what you did.” Dad speaks in a low, dangerous voice.

“What do you mean?—?”

He cuts me off again, stopping my attempt to save myself. “Don’t you dare try to act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sorry.” My breath catches and I can scarcely inhale.

“What exactly are you sorry for? That you got this job because you knew Parker Federov would be working here? Or because you hacked the gallery systems and his computer?”

My lips part and my eyes pop wide. “Parker’s computer?” That wasn’t part of the equation.

Sure, the man gave me a code that I input into the gallery’s computer. But that’s all I did. And no one was ever even supposed to know it was me.

Shit, shit, shit.

If I were in any doubt that I’d been played by my asshole accomplice, I certainly know now. No wonder he’s been MIA.

And the problem I now face is: what’s going to happen to me? If my father knows what I did, then who else knows?

He would only have been alerted if someone reported a problem.

“We could both be punished for this, Isabelle. I could lose my job and never be allowed to work anywhere again. You’d lose your place at the school and college prospects at Raventhorn University.” His nostrils flare and his face turns beetroot. “What the hell were you thinking?”

My skin breaks out in an angry sweat and my heart almost stops beating. “Dad, I didn’t know what I was doing. There was a man. He promised to help me find the truth about Mom.”

He exhales a frustrated breath, suddenly looking like a man who’s had to issue the same warning a million times. “Isabelle.” The disappointment in his tone is palpable.

“I’m so sorry, Dad.”

“Tell me everything about this man.”

I don’t wait another second. I tell Dad everything. What happened, why it happened, and my reasons for helping that asshole—which my father already knew. I’ve never spoken so fast in my life.

“I can’t believe you met with some stranger behind my back. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

“I know. I’m so very sorry.”

“It should have been a dead giveaway that he was trouble if he didn’t want to give you his name.”

“I know. I was just desperate.”

Finally my father’s face softens and he becomes more like the version of himself I’m used to. The one who adores me and was so in love with my mother he called her his sun and his moon. He’s the only person in this world who understands my grief over losing her.

“Listen to me.” His tone is softer and quiet. He moves closer, as if he’s worried our already hushed tones will float away and reveal our secrets. “No one else knows it was you.”

Relief floods me, parting the constriction in my lungs. “Don’t they?”

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