Page 142 of Lethal Alliance

Papa inclines his head. “I am no longerpakhanof our family,docha. The decisions regarding what is said, and to whom, belong with your brother now.”

“Fine.” I turn to Alexei. “Then maybeyoucan tell me what happens now.”

His face is the inscrutable mask I am beginning to dread, but he doesn’t dodge my question. “I know the Orlov operation inside and out. It’s going to take time for me to cut loose the parts of their business I don’t want.” His mouth tightens. “The trafficking in girls and drugs, just for starters.”

I wince. I should have known the Orlovs were deep into the sewers of our world.

“Lars and I have been working on a few online projects, which is where I want to steer the Petrovsky clan.” He glances between Papa and me. “I also want to keep the Petrovsky name,” he says quietly. “I think it is... wiser to keep the Naryshkin story a mystery.” He smiles wryly. “Mystery has power, for one thing. And there’s still no way of explaining the fortune in tsarist Russian treasures beneath our house that won’t bring a horde of federal investigation down on our heads. None of us need that kind of attention.”

He shoots me a sideways look. “I had a brief discussion with your husband-to-be before I came here.”

I stifle a rather childish impulse to roll my eyes, but my annoyance must be plain, because a fleeting grin touches Alexei’s mouth, there and gone so fast I might have imagined it. “Don’t go getting all butthurt, Dar,” he says. The use of my childhood nickname, and the casual way he talks, takes me back to childhood with a jolt so sweet that it chokes my protests.

“If you are in agreement,” he goes on, “Roman and I would like us all to open the vault together, after the wedding. He and I... well, we’d both like to continue the work our fathers started.” Alexei’s eye settles on Papa. “I understand that all of the pieces inside the vault are clearly marked,” he says quietly, “with the family name and last known descendant?”

Papa nods, his eyes a brilliant, hard blue of both pride and pain.

“Between us, Roman and I have considerable investigative powers.” Alexei’s lips twitch. “We also have Lance Ryder, whose skills we plan to put to good use.”

I give a surprised laugh. “You’re going to work with that little...” I catch myself just in time. “With that horrible paparazzi pond scum?”

Alexei tilts his head. “Paparazzi scum are much more useful working for us than against us. Ryder has had his fortunes restored, and we’re about to give him enough juicy gossip to keep him well fed for years. Not to mention that his own suspicions have finally been proven correct, which I think he found even more satisfying than the enormous check we gave him. Now he can follow the redistribution of the Naryshkin treasures, but always treat it as some kind of mystery, as if he doesn’t know where it’s coming from. Write about the conspiracy, but never really confirm it.”

“Smart.” Papa nods. He frowns. “But still dangerous. Are you and Roman certain you want this responsibility, Alexei?”

My brother looks at me. “Roman said it was your decision, Darya.” By the rather tight note in his voice, I take it my brother didn’t particularly like this stipulation.

But it makes my heart seize with joy.

Roman trusts me. He understands that I need to be a part of this, to have a voice in whatever decisions we make.

The comfort that gives me is a warm, beautiful thing in my chest, yet another confirmation that the man I love understands me in a way nobody ever has.

“Roman said that he will support whatever you decide.” Alexei’s voice is still hard. “If you would prefer the entire treasure be donated to a museum, we can make that happen. Or if you wish the vault to remain closed, Roman said he will abide by that, too.” There’s no mistaking his tension on the last sentence.

“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to donate it. And I certainly don’t want the vault to remain closed.” I shiver involuntarily. “I don’t ever want us to be held hostage by that vault again. Thank you for agreeing to abide by my wishes. Fortunately, they align with yours and Roman’s.” I reach across the table and briefly touch my brother’s hand. I don’t miss the way he flinches, then forces himself to relax.

My brother is not accustomed to being touched, or at least, not with affection.

I’m not sure that will ever stop breaking my heart.

“I want to honor our grandfathers’ promises, too.” I glance at Papa, who is watching us with a quiet pride that spreads warmth through my heart. “Do you think there are still descendants to be found?”

Papa nods. “I know there are. I have some names that will help. But not today. Today, I wish us to drink tea together and to speak of my daughter’s wedding.” Leaning forward, he gently covers one of Alexei’s hands, and then one of mine, with his own. The late-afternoon sun mellows the lines on his face, highlighting the deep emotion he doesn’t try to hide. “Because, my beautiful children, family is the reason we fight—and the only prize worth fighting for.”

43

ROMAN

Two days before the wedding, Lars Andersson arrives.

“Jesus.” Abby whistles aloud, staring in open amazement from the terrace as she watches him climb out of the car below. “He’s a fucking Viking.”

I’m no connoisseur of the male form, but even I can see what she means. Lars is about as far from the typical tech geek as it’s possible to get.

“Hey,” Dimitry says in mock protest, pulling her against him. “Leave the poor man alone. No way is he equipped to handle the likes of you.”

“Oh, and you are?” Abby rolls her eyes and elbows him, but she’s smiling. I see Darya watching them covertly from a distance, her eyes glowing. If I’m honest, I’m as glad as she is to see Abby and Dimitry slowly getting back to their normal banter. Oddly, given my rather difficult history with Abby, I find myself liking her a lot more these days, especially after the loyalty and bravery she showed that night at Pillars. Gregor told me privately that if it wasn’t for her, they’d likely all be dead. She might, I suspect, have a far more colorful past than even Darya is aware of, but she’s one tough cookie under pressure.

---