Page 42 of The Mafia King's Baby

“Or braver.”

The compliment catches me off guard, delivered with a sincerity that seems out of place given our circumstances. Brave. Is that what this is? It doesn’t feel like bravery. It feels like being swept along by forces beyond my control, making the best choices available from a set of terrible options. “What if I want to leave?”

The question is loaded with implications we both understand. What if I decide this is too much, too dangerous, and too far from the life I thought I wanted? What if I choose to take my chances with federal investigators rather than Russian criminals?

“You can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t be allowed to?”

Yefrem considers the distinction carefully before answering. “Both. Even if I let you walk away—which would be the stupidest thing I could do—you know too much now about my operations, my properties, and my associates. That information makes you valuable to my enemies and dangerous to me.”

“So, I’m a prisoner.”

“You’re under protection. There’s a difference.”

I cock a brow, and my tone is cynical. “Is there?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and his silence tells me everything I need to know. The distinction between protection and imprisonment might matter to him philosophically, but practically, the result is the same. I can’t leave, can’t contact anyone from my old life aside from the subtle gift for my mother,and I can’t make choices about my future without considering how they affect his security.

“I’m sorry.” The apology comes quietly, with genuine regret. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

I’m sure he’s being truthful, which makes it more disconcerting. He seems to care about me, and about dragging me into this, but I’m still his prisoner. “I believe you, but it did happen.”

“Yes.”

I shake my head. “And now we both have to live with the consequences.”

“Yes.”

I return to my chair and sit down heavily, feeling the full weight of my situation for the first time since Lang broke into my house. No job, no home, and no life to return to. No friends or family I can contact without putting them in danger. I have no future that doesn’t involve hiding from federal agents and Russian criminals. “What kind of life is this going to be?”

He’s brisk and straightforward. “Different from what you planned. It will be more dangerous and definitely more complicated.” Yefrem sits back down across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Not necessarily worse.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because you’re alive, you’re safe, and you’re not facing this alone.” He reaches across the desk and touches my hand briefly before pulling back. “We’re partners.”

The promise should be comforting, but it raises as many questions as it answers. Partners how? As allies or somethingmore? What does together mean when one person is a criminal kingpin and the other is a former marketing manager who just wants to survive? “Partners don’t usually imprison each other.”

He gives me a tiny smile. “Sometimes, they do in my world.”

“Our worlds aren’t the same.” I bend my head down and breathe deeply several times before looking up to meet his gaze again. “I need time to think.”

“Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere for a while.”

I stand to leave, then pause at the door. “Yefrem?”

“Yes?”

“The notebook—is everything in there true?”

He considers the question carefully, obviously understanding that I’m really asking whether he’s been honest with me about the scope of his activities, and the depth of his criminality. “Every word.”

“How bad is it?”

“Bad enough that it could destroy several organizations and so-called upstanding citizens if it fell into the wrong hands. Bad enough that people will kill to get it or to keep it secret.”

“Including you?”

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