Page 20 of All The Pretty Little Lies

As he turns to the liquor cabinet, I exchange a loaded glance with Zaire. My brother's eyes flicker with understanding, and he gives an almost imperceptible nod. We're on the same page.

"Actually, Father," I say, standing up, trying to keep my voice steady, "if you don't mind, Zaire and I thought we might head into town. You know, celebrate in our own way before school." I force a mischievous grin, hoping he'll assume we're paying a visit to the harem he's always presumed we had at our beck and call.

Father pauses, crystal decanter in hand. For a heart-stopping moment, I think he's going to refuse. But then he chuckles, shaking his head indulgently. "You boys and your escapades. Very well, go on. But remember, we have a family dinner tonight. I expect you both back and presentable by eight. Your mother will be disappointed if you’re late. You know how much she misses the two of you when we’re abroad."

"Of course, Father," Zaire says smoothly, rising to his feet. "We wouldn't miss it for the world."

As we leave the study, my mind is already racing, formulating plans to ensure our success. While I had hoped to be in the car with Vesper as her escort, this doesn’t change our plan. It just makes it harder to execute it.

We stride down the marble hallway, our footsteps echoing off the vaulted ceiling. Zaire's face is a mask of calm, but I can see the tension in his jaw, the slight twitch of his left eye that always betrays his anxiety. As we pass the grand staircase, I catch a glimpse of our mother in the drawing room, her delicate hands arranging a bouquet of blood-red roses. She doesn't look up as we pass, lost in her own world of flowers and silence. It’s been over a year since she and Father came to our home here in Boston. We’d been left in the care of the staff while they stayed close to Uncle Victor.

The warm summer air hits us as we step outside, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and freshly turned earth. Zaire’s black Lamborghini Aventador sits in the circular driveway, a sleek predator among the manicured topiaries. The car chirps as he unlocks it, and I slide into the passenger seat, the buttery leather cool against my skin. Zaire guns the engine, and we peel out of the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The wrought-iron gates swing open as we approach, and then we're on the open road, the sprawling Petrov estate disappearing in the rearview mirror.

We drive in tense silence, the summer landscape blurring past in a riot of greens and blues. I watch as we pass the turnoff for Saint Jude’s, my stomach clenching as I think of the life we're leaving behind. No more lazy afternoons on the quad, no more midnight study sessions fueled by contraband vodka and dreams of the future. But, considering the alternative is Vesper being stuck as Dmitri’s heir machine, and us being, well, dead, it’s worth the sacrifice. Our world would never survive my uncle gaining this much power. Every other family would be forced to bend their knee to his will. We can’t let that happen.

I finally break the silence. "Zaire, we need to talk about the plan."

He nods, his eyes never leaving the road. "I know. This changes things. We need to loop everyone in.”

I take a deep breath, organizing my thoughts, while pulling out my phone and connecting it to Zaire’s touch screen. Alex picks up immediately.

“Your plan has gone to shit, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, and no,” I answer. “Victor's men are handling Vesper's transport, not us.”

“That complicates things, but it's not insurmountable," Talon chimes in. “We always knew this was a possibility.”

“Did you make the drop, Alex?” I ask.

“What drop?”

“Package was delivered with a bow early this morning.”

“Is someone going to fucking enlighten me here or are we playing twenty questions,” my twin barks back.

"Alex made friends with our uncle’s local driver the last time he was in town.”

Zaire's eyebrows shoot up. "Seriously? How did he pull that off?"

“Turns out, he used to work for my dad before your uncle snatched him into service for a debt he owed. He’s been hispersonal driver for over two years now when he’s state side,” Alex adds.

“Which is almost never,” Zaire comments. “Why employ someone to drive you, when you have no intention of being here.”

I shoot my brother a knowing glare. “You and I both know why.”

“Kitty,” we answer in unison. Kitty, his mistress, is a Puerto Rican heiress with a geriatric husband on life support. His wife, Katerina, has never stepped foot outside of Russia. Per our father’s own admission, she kept his leash short at home. Having a mistress in another country was far easier to conceal. Safer, too, because Aunt Katerina may have just as much blood on her hands as Uncle Victor.

“So, his occasional driver that Alex befriended plays into this shit show situation, how?”

“Alex has been popping by before school to drop off a care package the last couple of weeks just in case we needed access to the car as Uncle Victor got closer to coming to terms with the Rossis.”

“Drugs, I’m assuming?”

“Bingo,” Alex adds to the conversation. “This morning, I may have ‘accidentally’ spilled my coffee all over the interior of his car. While he was cleaning it up, he tucked the phone under one of the back seats.”

"Clever bastard," Zaire mutters, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"That's not all," He continues, warming to the subject. "I also sabotaged the GPS system. It'll look like it's working fine, but it's actually feeding false data back to Victor's team. They'll think the car is heading straight for the airport even if Vesper manages to deviate from the route."

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