Page 31 of Dangerous Devotion

At the mention of Jemma’s name, I felt my blood run cold. The thought of her being in danger because of me, because of my father’s paranoia, made me want to tear the room apart.

“How do you know all this?” I demanded, struggling to keep my voice steady.

Zotov leaned back into the cushions. “I have my sources. Let’s just say your father isn’t as discreet as he thinks he is. And I kept an eye on him after he approached me to hire me for his little coup. He thought I’d jump at the chance to cause some chaos.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t?”

A small smile played at the corners of Zotov’s mouth. “Contrary to what you might think of me, I do have some principles. Betraying family isn’t my style. Besides,” he added, his tone turning serious, “your father’s plan is shortsighted and dangerous. It would destabilize the entire East Coast underworld. That’s not beneficial for anyone.”

He kept his gaze locked on me, and silence stretched between us. So that was his motive? Because it would destabilize the area? That was a very weird concern for a Russian Bratva boss, whose entire reputation was built on creating localized chaos, causing only gradual change on a global scale.

So, was this what was behind his actions? Or was he straight-up pitching my father and me against each other, trying to stir up shit?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Istumbled out of the room—dragged by Iset—my heart still racing from the confrontation between Vince and my father.

Before I could catch my breath, Fee grabbed my arm, and together, they pulled me into the room next to the one we’d just been in.

“Come on, Jemma. Let’s give them some space,” Fee urged, her voice a mix of concern and determination.

I glanced back, torn between staying to mediate and escaping the tension.

Mirabella—who was Isabella’s spitting image—fell into step behind us. Her face was mirroring my own conflicted emotions though she was probably even more confused.

As we moved farther away, the sounds of raised voices faded and turned muffled. My stomach churned with anxiety. What if they came to blows again? What if my father or Vince did something stupid?

“Stop worrying,” Isabella said, reading my expression. “Vince can handle himself.”

“It’s not just Vince I’m worried about,” I muttered, thinking of my father’s temper and the combined potential firepower in that room.

Fee guided me to a cozy sitting arrangement, and Picca was jumping up and down as soon as she saw me. I smiled, but when someone from the other room closed the door, I snapped back around. The sudden silence was almost deafening.

“Sit,” Fee commanded, pointing to the plush sofa. “You look like you’re either on the verge of a panic attack or about to pass out.”

I sank into the cushions, Picca crawled onto my lap, and I burrowed my hands in her fur and closed my eyes. Fee was right. I’d ignored the clammy feeling before, but standing between Dad and Vince was stressful…and I’d had enough stress today, already without watching Dad and Vince at each other’s throats.

I relaxed, grateful for the moment to catch my breath. Then opened my eyes again and met Mirabella’s gaze who was perched next to me. Surprisingly enough, her presence was oddly comforting despite meeting her for the first time. Maybe it was the similarity to Isabella that made me feel instantly comfortable in her presence.

She reached out, and I shook her hand. “So, you’re Jemma,” she said.

I raised an eyebrow, which only made her cock her head and smile.

“Since Matt and Isa are singing your praises constantly, I already know we’ll be friends,” she said.

I nodded, then glanced sideways at Isabella. The two of them looked identical, though Mirabella didn’t have the same beauty spot under her eye that Isa had.

“So,” Isa said, settling into an armchair across from me. “Want to tell us what’s happened and why suddenly everyone is on high alert and scrambling?”

I took a deep breath and tried to gather my scattered thoughts. The events of the past few hours whirled through my mind like a chaotic storm. So much had happened in such a short time.

“I…I don’t even know where to begin,” I admitted and ran a hand through my short hair. My short green hair…no wig, no baseball cap…and my father hadn’t even blinked an eye. “Oh shit.”

Fee narrowed her eyes. “Oh shit, what?”

I pointed at my hair. “Dad knew about it.”

Fee cocked her head. “Did you really think you could fool Uncle Craig?”

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