Page 4 of Bratva Baby

As I approach the main foyer, I see a pair of staff members huddled together. There’s a tension in the way they keep glancing toward my father’s office. Usually, Dad handles his shady deals offsite in warehouses or those private clubs he frequents. His conducting business here is never a good sign.

“Excuse me,” I say quietly, hoping to glean some information. “What’s going on?”

One of them, a short woman in a dark dress, shoots me a fleeting look. She’s obviously fearful. She parts her lips but doesn’t speak. The man beside her shakes his head like he’s warning her not to say a word. My father’s staff knows better than to gossip around me, or maybe they’re just protecting themselves.

I sigh and continue on my way. So much for finding out anything from them.

Before I can head upstairs, I catch sight of my sister, Cecily, hovering near Dad’s office doorway. She’s peering through a slight gap, looking like she’s trying to eavesdrop. Normally, Cecily is the proper one—quiet, obedient. It’s out of character for her to be snooping like this. My eyebrows shoot up.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, creeping up behind her.

She whirls around, pressing a finger to her lips. “Shh!” Cecily’s eyes are big, and her skin looks paler than usual, which is saying something because we share the same alabaster complexion. She grabs my hand and pulls me behind a decorative pillar, away from direct view of the office door.

I whisper, “Seriously, what’s happening?”

She looks around, making sure no one else is within earshot. “I heard a commotion from my room, so I came to check. Dad’s pissed.”

“Pissed about what?”

“I don’t know. Something about deals and betrayal. People have been walking in and out. There was a guy here I’ve never seen before. Dad sounds furious.”

A chill runs down my spine as I recall the earlier encounter with that mysterious man.

I gesture for Cecily to follow me so we’re not standing in the middle of the hallway. We move a little farther from the door and duck behind one of the tall decorative screens that are there for aesthetics, giving us a partial view of the office through a narrow gap.

Cecily lowers her voice to the faintest whisper. “What were you doing out last night, anyway?”

My heart clenches. “If you must know, I needed some air. I was at Nadia’s.”

She looks worried. “Dad’s going to kill you if he finds out you were gone all night. You know how he is.”

“Did you catch any names?” I ask, diverting the attention back to him. I know all too well how our father is. I don’t need to be reminded.

“I heard the name Barkov once or twice,” Cecily says, biting her lip. “Isn’t that one of the families Dad used to deal with?”

My pulse ticks up. Barkov. That rings a bell. Dad used to be allied with them, but something went wrong. I heard bits and pieces but never the full story. Dad keeps me and Cecily in the dark when it comes to his dealings.

We inch closer to the edge of the screen, and Dad’s voice booms out, but I can’t make out a word he’s saying followed by a muffled, almost panicked response.

Cecily and I exchange a concerned glance. Dad’s rage is so thick in his tone I can practically feel my stomach twist. I’ve seen him in these moods before, and it never ends well for whoever he’s confronting.

“What the hell are you two doing?” a voice growls from behind us.

I jolt and swing around. One of Dad’s older guards, Garrett, is standing there with his arms crossed. He’s a tall, lanky man with gray creeping into his hair, and he’s always had it out for me and Cecily—probably because Dad told him to keep us in line.

“Move along, ladies,” Garrett orders. “You shouldn’t be near Mr. Thorne’s office right now.”

I open my mouth, but Cecily grabs my arm and steers me away before I say something that’ll get us in trouble. We end up in a side corridor that connects to a smaller lounge room—one Dad rarely uses. I close the door behind us, muffling the noise from the main hallway.

Cecily presses her hands to her cheeks. “This is bad. Whatever it is, this is bad.”

I nod and start pacing the small space. “Didn’t Dad say he cut ties with the Barkovs months ago?”

She shrugs as she perches on the edge of a loveseat. “He did. Which means something changed.”

I think back to the man I ran into moments ago, the one with the broad shoulders and commanding presence. He said something about me not knowing who I was dealing with. Could he be from the Barkov side? Or maybe he’s part of a new arrangement Dad made.

“What if Dad’s about to do something extreme?”

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