Due to the time difference, Kirill isn’t awake yet, so I read my emails. It turns out the actors I hired to pose as us in Vegas were found murdered in an alley behind the hotel.
“Fuck!” I yell, my voice echoing through the empty kitchen.
I sink my head into my hands, knowing my plan to save us killed two innocent people. I stand abruptly, almost knocking over the barstool. I feel like breaking something but not this fancy coffee machine. I take a deep breath and push the button to dispense coffee into my cup. It’s too hot, but I sip it anyway. The irony of drinking a stimulant when I need to calm down is not lost on me. Getting people killed is depressing, even for a man who’s killed many.
A message has been sent.
Milan walks into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong, Dmitry?”
I tell him what transpired, and he pulls up a barstool, sitting beside me.
“That’s fucked up,” he replies. “What do we do now?”
I rake my fingers through my hair.
“We continue as planned. We don’t know who is behind this, but we know the Russians and Irish in New York want her.” I stand and pace with my hands clasped behind my back.
“The decoys are dead. But you’re on your turf now.” He reminds me that I have a tactical advantage.
“Yes, until they find us. I doubt they’ll figure it out overnight. I’ll make sure Kirill has Alena on lockdown. She’s the easiest way to get to Izzy.”
“Right.” Milan nods.
“I’ll call Kirill on a burner phone, and I need you to finish with the security details for the wedding. We need to be prepared for anything.”
“Sure thing.”
I go back to pacing. “I’m missing something big.”
“From what you’ve said, everything points to her being a Moretti. It makes sense. Moretti has a daughter who is unaccounted for, even if she supposedly died before Izzy was born. It’s not a big stretch. People were paid off. It was easier back then, too. No cameras at intersections to capture the car accident. No digital footprints to erase either.” He shrugs.
“Right. Is his daughter really dead? I ask myself that. It’s possible her mother got caught in a web of lies. All it takes is one person to fold, and the house of cards falls,” I say, refilling my cup.
“And the wedding plans?”
“Moving along. Izzy will coordinate with Anya on the final details. Invitations go out tomorrow, and everyone will know where we’ll be on the wedding day, including our enemies.”
“I know we’re holding the event at the Fulham Palace with the Tudor Courtyard near the River Thames. A morning wedding, a simple ceremony. If all goes well, we’ll use the terrace for a champagne brunch.”
“That’s too much ground to cover. Is it safe? We might want to change the venue at the last minute, book another place, perhaps. What if no one reveals their intentions?”
I rub the morning stubble on my chin. “That’s a great idea. However, there will be so much going on that day that it’s a perfect setup for someone to act. I don’t see the event going to plan. The biggest concern is, can we protect Izzy when things go sideways?”
“Right, we have our work cut out for us,” Milan murmurs as he helps himself to coffee.
Erik enters the kitchen and asks, “Where’s the princess?”
“Sleeping.”
“Who’s sleeping?” All eyes turn to Izzy coming down the stairs. I turn to Milan and put a finger to my lips to indicatekeep quietabout the information we shared. He’s quick with subtle hints, and Izzy can’t see me doing this.
“Obviously, not you.” I push the button to steam milk, which makes a lot of noise, then turn to hand her a cappuccino as she joins us in the kitchen.
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” I reply as I casually sit down and close the lid of my laptop.