Page 165 of Lethal Legacy

“Well, the door was open this morning. Just a bit, but it’s normally shut, so I thought maybe it had been left open for me to clean. I didn’t mean to look inside,” she adds hastily. “I just glanced inside briefly. But—and I know this is none of my business—I noticed that the safe inside it is open. And it’s empty.” Her anxious eyes meet mine. “I promise you I didn’t take anything out of it,” she says nervously. “I would never steal anything—”

My alarm ratchets up a notch.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” I say immediately. “Mr. Stevanovsky knows that, Maria. It’s why you’re the only person who cleans for him. He trusts you completely. Please don’t worry.”

“But that room, it’s never open. What if someone broke in?”

“I’ll call Mr. Stevanovsky and clear it up.” I smile reassuringly, despite the uneven thudding of my heart. “Please don’t trouble yourself. This will just be some kind of misunderstanding, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay.” She looks relieved. “I’ll just finish clearing up that bottle, and then I’m done.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” I wave her off. “You go. I’ll finish up here.” She argues for a few moments, but in the end, she goes.

I take the bottle and glasses into the kitchen and wash the glassware slowly.

Don’t go prying, Lucia.

Whatever he has in that locked room is absolutely none of my business. Doors are locked for a reason.

But what if he was broken into?

I know damned well I’m just going for excuses here. There’s no way anyone broke into Roman’s penthouse without him knowing. And he was clearly here himself last night.

Nonetheless, my feet are already carrying me down the hallway.

Turn back, Lucia. Spying on your lover is about as low as it goes.

The door is only just open. Maria clearly felt as guilty as I do right now and tried to leave it as she found it. It’s to her credit that she mentioned it at all.

Will you mention it, Lucia? Will you tell him you came and spied?

I push the door slightly open.

The room is windowless and entirely empty, but for a large, heavy, rather old-fashioned safe. It’s actually quite beautiful, with ornate decorative wrought iron that reminds me of something. But I’m more concerned with what Maria noticed: the door to the safe is wide open, the shelves completely bare.

Maybe he emptied it for the business deal yesterday.

I suppose that would make sense. Although, to be honest, I can’t imagine the sums of money Roman deals in fit easily into a safe, even a large one.

And again: none of your business, Lucia.

I need to get out of here. Whatever is going on with the safe is Roman’s affair, not mine.

Then I see the brass nameplate on top of the safe. And suddenly, I know exactly where I’ve seen that particular style of wrought iron before.

Shock runs icy cold through my body, followed by a hectic rush of heat that leaves my heart pounding. I cross the floor nervously and run my fingers over the name engraved on the plate.

Borovsky.

How many times have I seen that same nameplate, on the door to my family vault back in Miami?

Vilnus Orlov’s voice rings through my ears as if it were yesterday.Tell me how to open it, Darya...

I leap back as if I’ve been burned. Even touching the nameplate makes me feel sick and frightened.

I back out of the room, staring at the safe, and carefully close the door exactly as I found it, my heart pounding.

Why the hell does Roman have a Borovsky safe locked up in his apartment?

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