Page 60 of Dark Embers

“Don't worry,” Syd interjects. “I'll have Magda get her ready.”

I nod, grateful.

“Oh, tell Magda to get ready as she’ll be coming with us to help with Elena,” he orders Syd and looks at me. “We’ll need Magda’s help with Elena as you and I have a lot to do there.”

He’s right and I nod then remember something. “Shit, I need to get the box.”

Before Oleksi can protest, I'm already moving, taking the elevator down to his office. Once there, I gather the birth certificate, letters, and photo. In my haste, I accidentally knock the box off the table. It hits the floor with a dull thud, and to my surprise, a false bottom pops open, revealing another hidden document.

Frowning, I pick it up. There's handwriting on the back:

Ask Sabrina if this will do and how we can change it to suit our needs.

Thanks T.

Gav

I flip it over and my breath catches. Adoption papers, dated a day after Gavriil's letter to the hospital in Moscow where he was asking for Lidiya Zorin’s birth certificate.

“What the hell?” I whisper.

Shoving everything back into the box, I race back to the penthouse. It’s the longest fucking elevator ride in history. I push through the doors before they are fully open as my heart is pumping in my ears. Oleksi is no longer in the hallway. Syd is gone and the study is empty too.

I dash for the bedroom, bursting in—and come to a complete halt.

Oleksi stands by the dresser, shirtless, and my breath catches hard in my throat.

Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting a warm golden hue across his skin. His broad shoulders taper into arms roped with muscle, every inch of him carved like he was poured into a mold designed to make women forget how to breathe. The sun glints off his chest highlighting the sharp definition of his pecs and the taut ridges of his abdomen—six hard lines that look like they were chiseled straight out of marble.

His belt is undone, hanging low on his hips, the open waistband of his trousers hinting at the dark trail that disappears beneath the fabric. That V—the one that should come with a warning label—draws my eyes like a magnet. My mouth goes dry.

He glances up and catches me staring, one brow lifting with the kind of raw, masculine confidence that makes heat bloom between my thighs.

“See something you like, malenkaya?” he drawls, his voice a decadent rumble.

Despite the urgency, a flush creeps up my neck. He strides over, fingers threading through my hair as he pulls me into a searing kiss that leaves me breathless.

Pulling back, he murmurs, “Nothing I'd like more than to bend you over the desk and make you scream my name as I’m buried deep inside you. But it'll have to wait until we're on the jet, maybe?” he teases wickedly.

I swallow hard, trying to regain focus. “Oleksi, I think I've solved the mystery of Gavriil and Irina's son.”

He pulls back, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

I hand him the document. “Adoption papers,” I explain, pointing to the note on the back. “I think Gavriil wanted Tara to ask me to modify them for an adoption.”“

He scans the papers, shock evident on his face. “Where did you find these?”

“While I was retrieving the other papers and the photos I accidently knocked the box off the coffee and table and when it hit the ground I found it had a false bottom,” I explain. “This was hidden in it.”

He frowns, deep in thought. “Why would Tara hide this?”

“I have no idea.” I shake my head. “But the only thing filled in on the document is a date—dated the day after he sent that letter to the hospital in Moscow.” I point to the page where it is.

Oleksi looks at him in disbelief. “My brother and Irina were adopting?”

“Kirill said they had a son a few days before they were killed,” I remind him. “Maybe they got the child—a son. Maybe Tara disappeared to get it for them and was bringing it to them when…”

“They were killed,” Oleksi said. “Pavel told Syd that night the man he’d overheard speaking to Gavriil said his time was up to deliver.” His frown deepens.

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