Page 200 of Lethal Legacy

“What?”Completely blindsided, I stare at her, feeling a slow, deadly rage build inside me. “Nikolai did fuckingwhat?”

“You need to know.” Darya glances over her shoulder, then around the room. “Roman, I think I need to lie down. I—don’t feel very well. I think I’ve had too much champagne.”

“Bullshit.” I stare at her narrowly, whatever momentary peace I’ve found utterly stripped away. “You’ve been drinking soda water all night.”

It’s here. I can feel it. In her warning about Nikolai. In her pale face and shaking hands gripping the clutch. That dumb excuse about needing to lie down.

Alexei found her.

And now she wants to run.

And despite all of my logical decision-making, despite knowing that it’s safer, for her and for all of us, if she’s gone—despite all of those things, I suddenly know I can’t bear to let Darya go.

I didn’t expect this to happen. To hesitate.

I’ve been waiting for this moment. Planning for it, even. I have an envelope inside one jacket pocket containing a letter, ticket, passport, and a thick stack of cash. I’ve known all night that it was going to come to this. With theGuapamoored right offshore, Alexei was always going to come for his sister tonight.

It’s what I would do.

I thought I could tell her to go. I even planned a speech, which I almost gave to her back in that office. I was pathetically relieved when Ofelia interrupted us. And now that I’m here again, I can’t do it. The words are stuck fast in my throat. All I can see is her wide, terrified eyes, the body I still crave beyond all reason, vulnerable beneath that thin layer of silk.

How can she run anywhere, dressed like that?

Every man will want her. Any of them could try to take her against her will.

My fists clench involuntarily. Even the thought of someone putting a hand on that beautiful body makes me physically sick. Imagining her trying to fight someone off, sobbing as she tries to get free, terrifies the absolute hell out of me.

“Darya.” I choke on the name as my hand clasps her arm. “Don’t do this. Don’t run.”

“Why not?” Her eyes flare with a sudden, fierce anger. “Why, Roman? Because you can’t bear to let me go? Because you would be bereft without me?” She twists from my grasp. I’m so surprised by her anger that I let her.

“Darya—”

“Or is it,” she says in a low, furious voice, her face close to mine, “that you don’t want me to run because you know that without me, you can’t get into my family’s vault?”

Cold, brutal shock washes through me, momentarily robbing me of both breath and words.

“All this time, you’ve talked to me about trust.” Her face is deathly pale, with not even the faintest hint of color, her eyes glittering with hard anger. “But when wereyougoing to trustme, Roman? When were you going to tell me that you’re Roman Borovsky?”

The air dances and swirls around me, the noise of the ball suddenly muffled behind a queer, dizzy wall. I stare at Darya, her words reaching me as if from a long distance.

“I saw that Borovsky safe you keep behind a locked door in your penthouse. I told myself it was just a coincidence. But it isn’t, is it, Roman?”

I shiver involuntarily. “How—” My voice cracks. “How did you get into that room?”

“That’syour question? Seriously?” Her laugh is strangled. “You got drunk with Dimitry and left the damned door open, that’s how. Your maid wanted to know why the safe inside that room was empty. She was worried you’d think she robbed you. But you don’t keep valuables in that safe, do you, Roman? The safeisthe valuable thing. You keep it locked up in that room because your father made it. Well, I hope it warms your bed after I’m gone.” Her chest is heaving, her voice rasping in her throat. I want to interrupt her, to explain, but I’m tongue-tied, my mouth thick and clumsy.

“My mother.” Her voice catches. “She died because the Orlovs couldn’t get into our vault without your fingerprints, or the key your father hid. They didn’t believe us when we said we didn’t know where the key was. Theyhurtme, Roman!” Her voice cracks painfully. “They hurt my brother. They’restillhurting him. My father nearly died. And all that time, you were what?” She flings out an arm toward the ballroom. “In places like this, drinking champagne and planning for the day when you’d find me? When you’d reclaim your legacy? Is that all this has been to you, Roman?”

“No!” I roar, loudly enough to make those closest to us turn around curiously. “Come with me.” I take her by the elbow and steer her toward the end powder room, where someone is just coming out. “You need to understand—”

But my words never leave my mouth.

There’s an earth-shattering explosion.

I throw myself onto Darya and hit the floor, and then everything turns to darkness.

Iwake to Darya saying my name, trying to wriggle out from beneath me. “Roman!” She’s shaking my shoulders. “Roman, you have to wake up.”

---