Page 113 of Cashmere Cruelty

With my sisters on my father’s side, I don’t have any relationship to speak of. Nothing that I like to remember, at least. But with Charlie, it’s different. It was always different. Even if Eleanor followed the same exact playbook as her ex-husband, trying to pit her new kid against her old one—the purebred heir versus the unfortunate mutt born from a youthful indiscretion—Charlie never bit. He was always too kind, too sweet. A gentle soul, one even Eleanor couldn’t ruin.

Neither could Tom, though he tried.

“I overheard the call,” Charlie speaks up eventually, still transfixed by the child growing inside me.His niece or nephew, he must be realizing. “I asked Mom about it. She kept saying you made it up, that there was no way…” His lips press into a tight, angry line. “I got mad. We had this huge fight.”

“I’m sorry.” I mean it—I feel horrible. This is exactly why I left: aside from not wanting to be there, I also couldn’t afford to be. With Charlie always jumping up to defend me against Eleanor’s words—and against Tom’s hands—it wasn’t safe for me to stay. It wasn’t safe forhim.“I never meant to make trouble for you guys.”

Charlie quickly shakes his head. “You didn’t,” he promises. “Mom shouldn’t have said those things. She shouldn’t—” A pause. “She shouldn’t treat you like that,” he mutters at last.

I smile.My little knight in shining armor.“Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine. And pregnant. Unless this is a very good prop.”

“It’d be a very lively prop,” Charlie snorts, feeling Nugget squirm against his palm.

“Swiped it from theAlienset.” We both laugh before that semi-awkward silence creeps back in. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I went to the shop,” Charlie confesses. “You weren’t there, but Elias was. So I asked, and…”

“Of course. Makes sense. You’re too smart for your own good sometimes, kiddo.”

When he took me under his wing, Elias didn’t mind the little rooster that came along for the ride. Whenever things got badat home, Charlie would take a ridiculous combination of ferries and buses and trains just to hang around the shop for the day. Afterwards, we’d get ice cream and he’d crash on my couch. June always liked having him over—said he was the perfect test subject for her skincare masks.

“I hope it’s not a problem,” Charlie blurts out, taking my silence the wrong way. “I didn’t mean?—”

“No!” I answer immediately. “Not at all. It’s…” I pause, looking for the right words. “It’s nice to see you again,” I tell him, from the bottom of my heart. “And to see a familiar face in general. Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been going crazy.”

“I bet,” Charlie laughs, looking around for the first time. “Nice digs, by the way. How’d you end up here?” He glances towards the door again. “With hired guns?”

Just then, my stomach growls. “How about I catch you up over tea?” I suggest. “Otherwise, your nibling just might eat me.”

He gives me a warm smile. “Tea it is.”

I feel the same smile pulling at my lips. “Okay. Right this way, sir.”

34

MATVEY

I haven’t even been at the office for five seconds before two folders are slammed onto my desk.

Well, notslammedexactly. Grisha’s face is as serene as ever, but the stack is just that heavy. Even Yuri does a double-take at the sight.

“Ballistics report,” he announces, pointing at the thinner file, “plus a full background check on April’s family.”

Instinctively, I reach for the first report. I can tell that’s what Yuri wants to read, too, his hungry gaze zeroing in on it. Those were his men that got killed. If anyone’s going to want justice, it’s him.

But Grisha’s words stop me. “Family?” I repeat.

“That’s right,” Grisha confirms. “I took the liberty of researching her father’s side as well. Everything’s in there from her birth to the day she turned eighteen.”

I stare at the second folder. I only asked for details on April’s mother, but my subordinate has always been thorough to a fault. Now, April’s entire past is at my fingertips.

Veering at the last moment, I snatch the background check instead.

“Christ,” I mutter, weighing it in my hands. “What’s this, the goddamn Bible?”

Grisha shrugs. “What’s the Bible if not a family saga?”

Shaking my head, I open it. The first page is mostly housekeeping: April’s date of birth, nationality, blood type. Nothing of particular interest.

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