Page 80 of The Russian Retribution

The air between us feels electric. I’m on edge, like one wrong move will draw whatever this is to a close and I’ll lose my last chance to be near her. I want to touch her, to kiss her, to hold her. I’d even get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness.

“Did you read my letter?”

Her hands pause, hovering over the glasses for a second. Then she picks one up and places it down in front of me. “Yes.”

“Is that why you called?” I already know the answer. The number I gave in the letter differs from my usual number, but I want to hear her say it. For my own sanity, at least.

“Why didn’t you tell Viktor the truth?” Anastasia dives right in while avoiding my own question. Her directness catches me by surprise, but it’s the intense way her eyes lock onto me that renders me silent. I have so much to say about Viktor that I don’t know where to start. How do I even get her to believe me?

“I couldn’t,” I reply slowly. Honesty is all I have left. “I won’t lie, I thought about it. Part of me wondered that if I gave him the closure he was seeking, maybe he would be happy and he wouldunderstand why you did what you did. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t talk to anyone.”

She doesn’t reply. Her fingers linger on the rim of her glass as she watches me, so I continue to fill the silence.

“I was in shock. Not only had I told you the truth, but your confession was so raw and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. And then the baby on top of that…” My throat closes, cutting off my words as I think back to Viktor’s oddly gleeful news that she lost the baby. Maybe I shouldn’t mention the baby at all, but I can’t help it. “So I needed to think. And process. All I knew was that I was really fucking sorry for what I did. I never went into this with the intent of hurting you, you have to believe me. You were just the boss and I was helping Viktor. And then I saw you. And you saw me.”

Anastasia’s gaze doesn’t waver, pinning me to the spot with a calm look. Then she picks up her glass and drinks slowly.

“So I was thinking about how I was going to make it up to you, how I could show you that everything from me was real, and then Vitor wanted to meet with me, so I did.”

“And you told him?” she asks quietly.

“No. I didn’t. I… considered it, sure. But only because I thought he needed help to see that he was spiraling. But then I realized that he didn’t care either way. So I told him I found out the truth and that you were innocent, and he didn’t care. Not even a little. He was adamant that you were guilty, and I realized that he didn’t want me to investigate to find out the truth. He just wanted me to be close to you so he would have access. And…”

I reach for her hand without thinking.

“Anastasia, you have to be careful. He’s trying to kill you. Do you remember Sunray, the name on the account that paid the assassin who attacked you at the construction site?”

She nods, quickly retracting her hand from my grip. “What of it?”

“Sunray is the name of an offshore account your father set up and Viktor has access to. He paid that assassin. He’s determined to kill you, by any means. You have to shut him down, or get away from him or something.”

Oddly, Anastasia doesn’t seem surprised at the revelation. “I can handle Viktor,” she says quietly. “I have things in place. I just…” Her shoulders rise briefly. “I wanted to look into your eyes while you told me the truth to see if I could tell whether you were lying or not.”

Her words spear me like a knife. “I never lied to you,” I say softly. “Not directly.”

“You weren’t honest either,” she replies.

“My feelings were. They are. I know I came to you under false pretenses, but everything else is real, you have to believe me! And I know it must be so hard for you right now, with the gala and losing the baby and the?—”

“Wait.” Anastasia cuts in. “What are you talking about? I didn’t lose the baby.”

“What?” For a moment, the world falls away from me and all that exists is Anastasia perched on the stool in front of me. “Viktor… he–he said the night you were bleeding, you miscarried.”

Anastasia’s eyes widen and she shakes her head rapidly. “No, Erik. I didn’t. I told him I did because he cornered my doctor and forced the truth out of her. But I promise, the baby is fine.”

“Are you sure?” My voice quavers as I look down to her stomach. “Are you positive?”

“Yes,” Anastasia replies confidently. “Erik, the baby and I are fine. I promise.”

“Oh, my God.”

“You…” She squints at me and her head tilts slightly. “Are you crying?”

Her words alert me to the warmth in my eyes, and I swallow hard around the unexpected flush of emotion. “No, I… well, maybe. I’m sorry. I just spent the past week or so thinking I’d lost out on my chance to be a father to a baby I’d only just learned about, and I was gutted that something so precious had been given to me and taken away within the space of a day. I just…” Clearing my throat, I quickly wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “I’m sorry, Anastasia. I’m really sorry I hurt you, but I’m so fucking glad the baby’s okay.”

To my surprise, Anastasia sets down her glass and reaches for my hand. When we touch, a shock of energy darts up my arm followed by a flush of tingles right down to my palm. She takes my hand and gently lays it on the swell of her abdomen.

“The baby is fine. Nearly three months.”

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