Page 109 of Sweet Deception
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The following day, I sat in the front yard of the house with my father. He had ordered Stefano to bring Tatiana from wherever she was being kept. My stomach was tense with anticipation, my hands gripping the armrests of my chair.
Then, as if testing the waters, my father asked, “Are you still communicating with Gleb Romanov?”
My breath hitched. Had he somehow overheard my conversation with Gleb yesterday? I kept my expression neutral.
“Why do you ask?”
“Your sister told us Gleb didn’t seem to see you as just a nominal wife, that the way he defends you, he might not divorce you. But suddenly, you two divorced the day after she mentioned that. Strange timing, don’t you think?”
My heart pounded, but I forced myself to scoff. “Maria knows nothing about what my life was like under Gleb. To him, I was nothing but property. He blamed me for his mother’s death because of something Mother did. He hated me for it, swore to make my life miserable.”
My father studied me carefully. “So why would he let you go?”
I shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. “I lied to him.”
His eyes narrowed. “What lie?” His tone was sharp, more investigative than conversational.
I swallowed “I told him I had connections in Italy that could help him track down Tatiana. He knew I was useless to him if Istayed in Moscow, so he let me go, on the condition that I deliver results.”
My father hummed, still skeptical. “Why would he trust you?”
“He didn’t. He swore to kill Maria if I failed.”
His expression faltered, just for a heartbeat. “Did he really think that would move you? Given that you and your sister aren’t on good terms?”
I clenched my fists, my voice sharpening. “What are you talking about, Papa? Maria has been my sister and my friend since we were little. Just because we had a disagreement doesn’t mean I don’t love or care about her.”
His lips pressed together. “Okay.”
I didn’t know if he believed me, but as the head of the most powerful cartel in Italy, I knew he never took words at face value.
A black sedan pulled up, its tires crunching against the gravel. The back door swung open, and my breath caught.
The woman who stepped out was strikingly tall, dark-haired, her black evening gown clinging to her slender frame. But it wasn’t her beauty that held my attention. It was the way she carried herself. Cool. Detached. As if she were assessing everything around her.
Stefano led her toward us. “Tatiana, this is my daughter, Anna.”
I offered a warm smile. “Tatiana, yes?”
She gave a small nod. “Yeah.”
I extended my hand, and after a beat, she shook it, her grip neither firm nor weak. Calculated.
“My daughter wants to speak with you,” my father said before walking away.
I turned to Stefano. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Anna. We’ll talk later,” he said before stepping aside.
I turned back to Tatiana. “Oh my days! Gleb misses you so much.”
Her expression remained blank. No flicker of recognition, no warmth.
I cleared my throat. “Come, let’s sit.”
I led her under a shaded area, where she sank into a chair with effortless grace.
