Page 190 of Lethal Legacy

“Only one.” I toss off the vodka. “What made you suspect my identity?”

“You have your mother’s features, did you know that? No.” His eyes dull, the lines suddenly deeper on his face. “You would not remember her, I think.” He turns the vodka glass slowly in his hand. “But that is all you have of Rosa. Your eyes—these are Aleksander’s. The way you move is his. But those, most of all.” He nods at my hand on the vodka glass. “You have your father’s hands, Roman,” he says quietly. “Aleksander’s hands were his greatest treasure. We wrapped them a hundred times over on our journey, to protect them from frostbite. ‘Without my hands this is all for nothing, Sergei,’he would tell me. You see this?” He grasps my hand, splaying the fingers wide on the table. “Aleksander always said that people think a man needs slender, nimble hands to create jewelry or work on an intricate lock. The truth is that a man needs strong hands to work metal. I remember watching him in the workshop, his hands over yours, teaching you—”

His voice breaks off, and he looks away. “I saw the earrings you gave Darya,” he says softly. “I would recognize Aleksander’s work anywhere. But it was the way you fastened them in her ears. So fast, so sure. You—it was like watching Aleksander.”

I’m not ready for this. I was sure his answer would just be lies and evasion. Perhaps involve Alexei. Or even Lance Ryder.

But not this. Not memories that cloud my brain and confuse past and present. Raw memories that remind me of who I lost—and of who was responsible for their loss.

“You failed them both.” My voice is as harsh as the life Sergei forced me to live. “You promised to get my mother to safety, but you must have failed, because she never came back. You told my parents you’d protect me, but when the Orlovs came and killed my father, you were nowhere to be seen. You failed us all.”

“Yes.” He meets my eyes squarely. “Yes, I failed you, Roman. And for that you have every right to take my life.”

“Then you admit it.” I stand abruptly. My body is restless, unable to simply sit, and if I pour more vodka, I won’t fucking stop. “You admit you betrayed them. I saw men with the Orlov tattoo drive through your gate, the same day my father died. That was years before the coup. You were working with them, and you let them kill my father.”

“No.” Sergei’s voice is almost as hard as my own. “I failed you all, that is true. I thought the Orlovs were allies, and I was wrong. It is a failure for which I will never forgive myself. But I never betrayed your parents, Roman. Or you.”

“That makes no sense.” I glare at him. My eyes fall on my phone, sitting on the chess board. It’s five p.m.

I don’t have time for this.

I pocket my phone and take a step toward the doors.

“Wait.” Sergei grips my arm with surprising strength. His eyes are no longer pale, but a fierce, hawkish blue, filled with a story I’m not sure I want to hear. “There is so much you don’t know.” He meets my eyes. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch at the killing fury in mine. “Kill me after I speak, if you must. But first, you need to know the truth, Roman. Your mother—”

“No.” I unpeel his hand and toss it aside, striding for the doors. “Not today, old man. I got what I came for. I only came to make sure you can’t fucking leave.”

You’ll only slow her down.

“Wait!” He’s reaching for his wheelchair, but it’s too far. He tries futilely to pull himself out of the wicker seat, his head twisting toward me. “Wait, Roman,” he gasps, his eyes widening as I start to close the doors. “Your mother. She—”

“No, you old bastard.” I slam the doors on him, leaving him mouthing silently behind the glass.

Whatever you’ve got to say, I’ll hear it when I’m damn well ready.

“You should have left me at the lab.” Mickey’s voice is hard and tense. “I don’t need to go to the damned ball. I’ve got work to do—”

“And it will have to wait,” I say curtly. “Your mother asked that you all attend tonight.”

“Since when do you give a shit about what Inger wants?”

“Don’t speak about your mother like that.” I glance sideways at him. His hands are clenched in tight fists, his face set and pale. “Whatever you’re working on isn’t anything Pavel and the team can’t manage. I know you’re incredibly good at this stuff, Mickey, and I admire that. But Mercura isn’t your responsibility. Trust me when I say I’ll manage this.”

“Trust you.” His mouth curls. “Sure, Roman.”

I wrench the car onto the side of the road and turn to face him. “Right. That’s enough. What’s going on? You’ve been giving me side eye for days now. And Dimitry tells me you’re worried about Lucia.”

“Don’t you mean Darya?” Mickey turns hard eyes to me. “I think we’re past pretending I don’t know who she is, Roman. And, yes, I’m worried about her. You should be, too.” His eyes narrow, studying me with a disquieting intensity. “Unless you’ve been playing her all this time for your own reasons.”

“I’d be very careful about what you say next,” I say grimly. “You might be family, but that doesn’t mean I won’t put you on your ass if you piss me off.”

“Right.” His eyes gleam with a rather dangerous light. I can’t help but admire the kid. It takes some balls to face me down. “Because you’re the only one who makes the decisions around here, huh? Even if it means using Lucia to get what you want.”

“Jesus, Mickey.” I’m not sure whether to be exasperated or impressed. “What exactly do you think I’m planning to do?”

“I think you’ve been planning to use her from the beginning.” He doesn’t back down at all. “And I think you’ve been lying to her. Just like you’ve been lying to us.”

“Lyingto you?” I frown, confused. “About what?”

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