Page 169 of Lethal Legacy

And much as I loathe him, I can’t get his warning out of my mind.

Especially since I’ve seen the proof of Ryder’s words with my own eyes.

Why would Roman buy up Borovsky safes?

One might be a coincidence. But several? Bought anonymously?

If Ryder’s telling the truth.

Unfortunately, however, his claim matches Roman’s own admissions to me too closely for comfort. Roman said he’d been buying up his father’s jewelry for years.

Swap “jewelry” for “safe,” and he’s already told me the same story.

Anna, Papa’s maid, opens the door to me with a smile that quickly turns to concern. “What happened? I thought you were still asleep! Are you okay, Lucia?” She glances behind me, frowning. “Where’s your security?”

“It’s nothing.” I try to smile. “I had to slip out to pick up something from the post office. I didn’t want to bother Bryce during siesta. Somebody tried to snatch my bag on the way home, and I got a fright, that’s all. I’m fine.”

“Oh!” She covers her mouth, ushering me inside. “You poor thing. You shouldn’t have been walking alone, not at dusk. It’s not safe, even in Malaga...” Chattering on, she seats me at the kitchen table and starts pouring me a glass of wine.

“Anna.” I interrupt her. “Can we just keep this between ourselves? Papa would worry, and Roman will be furious if he knows I went out without security. I don’t want Bryce to lose his job for something that was my own fault.”

“Of course.” She pats my hand. “But are you sure you’re okay? Here.” She pushes the glass of wine toward me.

I eye it warily. I’ve never wanted a drink more.

But as much as I want it, I can’t help but think of the unopened test sitting in my drawer.

Damn it.

I’m suddenly fed up.

Between my pregnancy fears, Inger’s arrival, Roman’s silence, the Borovsky safe, and my encounter with Ryder, my internal stress barometer has hit peak pressure.

There’s only one of those things I can actually control.

I resolve to take the test tonight. At least I can cross one damn thing off the stress list, either way.

Making a decision, however small in the grand scheme of things, helps calm me down. Gives me the illusion, at least, of control.

And being accosted by Ryder in a dim alley has put something else into perspective.

Not once has Roman made me feel endangered.

In fact, he’s done everything in his power to do the opposite.

The last time I didn’t trust him, I nearly lost him. Even the memory of that makes me shudder.

Ryder’s hand on my arm was a reminder of the terror I’ve lived for six years. Roman gave me a way out of that, and he’s never given me reason not to trust him.

Ryder, on the other hand, is a notoriously skeezy pap journalist who has repeatedly harassed not only me, but Abby, too. He told me once before that Alexei was here—and yet I’ve seen no sign of my brother. I know Alexei. If he was close, and knew I was in danger, nothing would stop him from getting a warning to me.

I need to talk to Roman.

That decision gives me an even greater sense of relief. Roman clearly has secrets. But I don’t believe he’s lying about how he feels about me.

I simply can’t imagine anyone, particularly not a man as ruthless and passionate as Roman, being able to fake the intensity of feeling that exists between us.

Yes, he’s been avoiding my father. But that could be for a myriad of reasons that have nothing to do with Miami or Roman’s interest in Borovsky safes.

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