Page 15 of Crowned

Bartoli frowns. “You think you are too good for us,Americana?”

“Russa,” I correct him with a smile. “My accent is one thing. My roots are another. And please don’t be offended as this is nothing personal. Papa needs this done quickly and quietly without any of his Russian friends finding out about it. These are the account details, and my email address.” I slide a piece of paper across the counter, upon which is written the number of a cryptocurrency account I set up two weeks ago and the email address associated with it.

“As soon as I receive a notification that the funds are in escrow, I will forward you and the buyers the name of a hotel, room number, and safe code here in Trieste. After you’ve examined the jewels, you will release the funds, and you’ll never hear from us again.” My tone is casual, almost bored, but the back of my neck is prickling. Any moment now Dad is going to send his men in here to drag me out. If he finds out about the diamonds…

I remind myself how careful I’ve been. No one knows where the diamonds are but me.

Bartoli gives me a doubtful look. “And my buyers are meant to take your word that there are fifteen more diamonds just like this one?”

I push the solitary pink diamond across the counter with my forefinger. “Hold on to that. Show your friends.”

“You are very bold,signorina,” he tells, me, pocketing the diamond.

What he really means is trusting. I open my mouth but hesitate. I know how Dad would play this.How could I not trust a family man with two beautiful little girls. About two and five, aren’t they? Very sweet.

I picture Mr. Bartoli waking up in a cold sweat every night for the next month and checking on his daughters. Worrying whenever they’re out of his sight for even a moment.

I give him a smile. “I’m not bold. I’ve done my research. This deal benefits both us and your buyers. And it benefits you,signor. Enjoy your finder’s fee.”

Reminding him that he will receive a tasty cut of six million dollars seems to settle things. “I will contact my buyers about the diamonds.”

“Grazie.” I take a quick look around at the display cases, and then hand over the euros that Dad gave me. “I’ll take the locket. Don’t bother with a box.”

With a baffled expression, Mr. Bartoli unlocks the display case and hands over an old-fashioned gold locket, a piece that’s about as far from a sleek pink diamond as you could possibly imagine.

I stroll back across the square with the locket in my hand and I’m doing it up around my neck as I take my seat opposite Dad, who’s scowling at the length of time I took.

“The jeweler tried to screw me, but I wasn’t having it,” I explain, settling the necklace carefully into place. “Let’s order some food.”

I’m already signaling for a waiter, my heart doing somersaults in my chest.

As we eat pasta in silence, I notice several dangerous-looking men in suits enter the square and consult with each other in low voices as they stare at me and Dad. One of them is on his phone and he shows the screen to his companions. I imagine it’s images of Dad on the steps of various courthouses as he’s yet again found not guilty or the charges are dropped. They’re verifying that he really is Aran Brazhensky, aPakhanin the Bratva.

One of the men steps forward to approach us, and I nearly drop my pasta in my lap, but another man grabs him and shakes his head, and they all walk out of the square.

I breathe a silent sigh of relief. Step one of my escape plan, tick.

The next steps, though? My stomach is in knots when we finish our meal and I get to my feet. All I have to do now is accomplish the tasks of secretly selling Konstantin’s diamonds, escaping Dad, and hiding from my captors for the rest of my life.

And take a pregnancy test.

When can I take the pregnancy test?

Back in my hotel room, Dad turns to me, buttoning up his suit jacket. “All right. Pack your things. You are returning with me to America, we are going to clear your name. I have information that it was one of Ivan Kalashnik’s men who was informing on him to the feds.”

Dad goes on ranting about what he’d like to do to people who accuse his flesh and blood of working with the feds. He turns to the mirror and starts fixing his tie. “It’s always worth having a dirty cop on your side in our business. It should be easy enough to find the real rat. You’re lucky you have me.”

That’s taking things way too far. I throw my handbag on the bed and sink into a chair. “Lucky? Every time some muscle-bound Russian asshole hopped up on testosterone comes anywhere near me, my life crashes and burns once again.”

Dad catches my gaze in the mirror. “Who are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about all of you,” I seethe. “You, Ivan, your friends, anyone you might want me to marry. I wish you would all just leave me alone.”

“Boss, look at this.”

One of Dad’s men has picked up my handbag and started going through it. He throws Dad a small white box, who catches it and turns it over in his hands.

I sit up and clutch the arms of the chair. “How dare you go through my things.”

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