Page 26 of Cashmere Cruelty

She was kidnapped. She escaped. She ran all the way here.

“You asked for my protection,” I say, with a tone that brooks no argument. “So let me protect you.”

This time, April doesn’t say anything.

I force myself to tear my gaze away from her belly. Then, my mind bursting with everything I still need to do to salvage this shitshow, I finally stride out the door.

“Wait!”

“What, Yuri?”

I turn. My brother’s there, halfway out the door, with a look in his eyes I know all too well. “I can help.”

“Is this about your pissing contest with Grisha?” I sigh, starting to feel beyond irritated. “Because if that’s the case?—”

“It’s about Petra.”

I stop walking. “What about Petra?”

“She was upset, Motya.” Yuri doesn’t meet my gaze as he speaks. “Will she even talk to you?”

“Of course she will,” I answer without missing a beat. “We were supposed to be married by now. If she won’t talk to me, who else is left?”

“I…” Yuri hesitates. “I can help.”

I massage the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. Good intentions, road to hell, et cetera. “You are helping, brother,” I insist. “By staying here. Where I need you most.”

“But—”

I walk up to him, squeezing his shoulders with both my hands. Grounding him. I don’t know what’s got him so out of sorts, but I need him to snap out of it, and fast.

If I can’t rely on Yuri, I can’t rely on anyone.

“You don’t have to keep competing with Grisha for top spot, Yuri. You’re my second.” I stare him right in the eye, hoping my words will finally get through his thick, thick skull. “You’re my blood. No one else can say that. No one in the whole world. Do you understand?”

No one, a voice inside me whispers,except?—

“I understand,” Yuri finally gives in. “But I can do more if you need me to. That’s all.”

An idea comes to mind then. If more responsibility’s what Yuri wants, then I have just the task. “Tell you what,” I say, pulling out the crumpled sheet of paper I was handed earlier. “If you want to help, you can help. With this.”

He scans the document. “A paternity test?”

“I want a new one.” Without hesitating, I yank a few strands of hair off my scalp. It doesn’t even sting. After Siberia, anything short of a bullet feels like a hot stone massage. “Feel free to forge my signature on the consent form. Apparently, that’s commonplace now.”

Yuri frowns, but doesn’t say anything. As my second, he’s done far worse than commit some light forgery. “You think she’s lying?”

“I think we have no reason to believe her,” I answer coldly, ignoring how wrong the words feel in my mouth. “She’s a stranger, after all.”

Not acompletestranger, a part of me points out, reminding me of all the ways we got intimately acquainted with each other.

But that’s neither here nor there.

“What about the baby’s DNA to match against?” Yuri asks.

“The data’s already in the system, so?—”

That’s when I realize something. Something I should have realized a conversation ago. The test, the kidnapping—what if it’s all connected? What if this piece of paper is the key to all of it?

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