Page 57 of Sinful Scars

“Not in the slightest.” There isn’t a hint of amusement in Pyotr’s eyes, and I fight the urge to launch my coffee cup across the tiny kitchen.

“Fuck.” I run my hand over my face. “How thefuckdid she end up marrying a Koslov? There’s no way my father would have allowed that.”

This doesn’t make sense. What the hell is Nina doing?

“And she has a kid too?”

“A girl. She’s only a few months old.”

“A girl…”

“I guess that makes you an uncle.” Pyotr chuckles.

My stomach sinks even more.

This has my father written all over it.

“From what I can gather, your father tried to use Nina to gain information from Anton, but it ended up backfiring.”

“Clearly.” I scoff. “Fuck, this isn’t good.”

If Nina’s looking into me, it’s likely because her husband has asked her too. There’s no way the Koslovs don’t know the truth about her heritage, and they’re likely counting on me being ignorant to her marriage to gain information.

“This is really not good.” I set down my coffee, bracing my hands on the counter.

Having Elle directly linked to the Koslov bratva through her cousin was risky enough. And now Nina is married to the Pahkan’s cousin?

It seems I’m never going to escape them.

Maybe that’s the universe’s way of punishing me for what I did.

After all, I’m the reason the previous Pahkan and his wife are buried six feet under the ground.

“Call her, Lev.” Pyotr pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and sets it on the counter. “She’s worried about you.”

“She doesn’t need to be. I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

I grind my teeth at Pyotr’s accusatory tone.

“Do you have anything else for me? Because I really need to take a shower.”

“Not at the moment. Your father is proving to be very hard to look into.”

“He’s no stranger to being followed by PI’s. Alexei’s been after him for the best part of a decade, so he’s gotten good at covering his tracks.”

“No shit.”

“I appreciate you stopping by, and for the food.”

“No problem. And you know you can call me anytime right?”

I nod, my throat too thick with emotion to speak.

Pyotr gives me a parting slap on the shoulder before grabbing his coffee and letting himself out.

The second the door slams shut, I reach for the piece of paper and unfold it to find Nina’s number scribbled inside.

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