Page 41 of Lethal Legacy

Except that instead of jumping to them, for some reason he’s still standing in my office.

“You should probably fuck off, if you want to beat the traffic.”

Dimitry doesn’t move. I frown. “Something you want to say, brother?”

“The children.” He folds his arms and gives me something close to a glare. “After everything they’ve been through, do you really think it’s wise to give them a nanny who poses that kind of flight risk?”

I scowl, not least because I know damn well he’s right. Under normal circumstances, there’s not a chance in hell I’d let anyone near those kids without a high security check.

But Lucia Lopez isn’t normal. And whatever else she might be, my gut tells me she’s not a threat. At least, not in the way Dimitry means.

“Do you honestly think,” I snarl, “that I’d do anything at all that might put Mikhail’s children in danger?”

“I don’t doubt you can keep them safe.” His glare doesn’t diminish in the least. “But I also think that it’s about damn time you did something more than just keep them safe. They need more than just a nanny, Roman. Especially one who might leave at any minute. They need a father. And a mother. One who actually gives a shit about them.”

I’m torn between punching him out and giving him the mother of all roardowns. Not least because his remarks about Lucia being a flight risk hit home far more than I find comfortable. But the truth is that Dimitry, the stubborn prick, is the only person I know who has the balls to face off with me.

Most of the time I like it.

Right now it pisses me off.

And Dimitry clearly knows it.

“Fine.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going. But those kids deserve better than what you’re giving them, and you know it.”

He closes the door, leaving me furiously pacing the floor of my office.

The worst of it is, I know he’s right. I also know that I’m not the person he wants me to be.

Dimitry has some romantic notion that being tasked with the care of Ofelia, Mickey, and Masha will somehow magically transform me into a soft-hearted family man.

I know there’s zero chance of that happening.

That was Mikhail, not me.

I won’t ever understand why Mikhail gave me the care of his children. How he ever thought I could be anything more than the cold-hearted bastard I have been for the past two decades.

And if anyone should know exactly how ruthless I am, it’s Dimitry, who has known me for almost all of that time. The fact that he seems to expect more of me pisses me off.

I’m still fuming when Lucia walks in.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

The floaty sun dress itself is demure enough. But the way the thin cotton clings to the curve of her ass and dips to reveal the swell of that fucking delicious cleavage is pure sin.

The combination of lust and fury makes my voice harsher than I intend as I hand her a document folder.

“I’ve set up a company account for your exclusive use, as we discussed. Inside that envelope is the access card. There is also an opening balance, the amount of which is also on the paperwork inside the envelope.”

But she doesn’t open the envelope.

“I thought,” she says, frowning at me, “that I was supposed to be at the airport this morning, meeting your children.”

“Godchildren,” I correct her. “And I’ve delayed their return until tomorrow, by which time you will have had time to shop for an appropriate wardrobe and move into my building.” I nod at the envelope. “Why don’t you open that?”

Frowning with confusion, she opens the envelope and pulls out the paper inside. Her eyes widen as she reads, and the color drains slowly from her face. When she finally puts the paper down on my desk, her hands are shaking.

“This is more money than we discussed,” she breathes. “This is—it’s a fortune, Roman.” The breathless way she says my name, the hint of brilliance in her topaz eyes, makes me feel ten feet tall.

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