Page 92 of Dance of Deception

I flinch. Kir notices.

He shifts again, his voice dropping lower. “I heard about Popov.” Kir shakes his head. “If you needed money, you should have come to me.”

I swallow hard. “I don’t?—”

“You’remarryinghim for it,” Kir says evenly. “Carmine, I mean.”

I shake my head too quickly. “It’s—it's not like that.”

Kir doesn’t look convinced.

“Can I assume your new fiancé is the reason Popov no longer has a pulse?” He arches his brow. “Orhands, for that matter?”

I freeze, eyes bulging.

Kir leans back, studying me again. "That, however, is not why I wanted to sit down with you today." He frowns, tapping the desk again with one hand as he strokes his chiseled jawline with the other thoughtfully. "I don’t want to alarm you," he murmurs, "but I heard a rumor."

A rumor.

My fingers tighten in my lap. "What kind of rumor?"

Kir’s expression doesn’t change, but his ice-blue, predatory eyes hold mine in place.

"The kind that’s designed to scare you."

He sighs, rubbing his jaw. “I can assume you know who Marcus Chen is?”

My stomach turns. Of course I do.

Marcus Chen is the conspiracy theorist-slash-snake-oil-salesman who run The Truth Report podcast and blog. He’s basically the epicenter ofallof the especially ridiculous, horrifying theories about my father’s crimes and my connection to them.

The motherfucker who’s leaked my phone number and my address to his rabid, lunatic fans multiple times. The one who sends grieving people like Chris Hodgkins my way with twisted lies roaring in their heads about my connection to their dead loved ones.

Kir watches my reaction carefully.

“He’s publishing a new article later tonight,” he says smoothly. “And it’s…not pretty.”

I swallow hard. "What does it say?"

Kir exhales slowly. "That your father isn’t dead. That his body was never recovered. That the prison autopsy was fabricated." He holds up a hand as I open my mouth. "It’s all bullshit. But bullshit spreads fast."

I sway slightly. The room tilts.

Kir sits back, crossing one leg over the other. "I could, of course, pay him a visit. Make him rethink his career choices." His tone is dry and laced with something sharp. "But that would only make him double down. If I go after him, he’ll publish the story with twice the effort."

I drag my tongue over my lips, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. "So why are you telling me this?"

Kir studies me. "Because I wanted to reassure you before you heard it from someone else."

The air feels too thick.

He adjusts his suit jacket. "I wanted you to know that I am handling it. And that you have nothing to fear."

Something sharp twists inside of me. Darkness from the past claws up from the shadows, strangling me for a moment. But I force a tight smile, swallowing the unease curling through me. "Thank you for telling me."

Kir inclines his head. "One last thing."

I blink. "What?"

---