Page 80 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

“Aryana!” Lauren snaps her fingers. “Of course. I knew there was something familiar about your face. Yes. Come on back to my office.”

I thank the receptionist for her help on my way past her desk, but she gives me little more than a flippant wave and an eye roll.

If only she knew why I was really here.

Dr. Malone’s office is bright and clean. “You became a veterinarian, right?” she says as we step in. “I knew you left pre-med, but I got so bogged down with coursework I couldn’t keep up.”

“Same. It’s hard to have friends when you’re becoming a doctor,” I laugh. “Yes, I was a vet.”

She frowns. “Was?”

“It’s a long story, but I’m not practicing right now. I’ve had some… personal issues come up.”

Lauren purses her lips. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is that why you’re here to see me today? I’m a pediatrician primarily, but of course, I’d be happy to recommend you to one of the other doctors here. My dad just retired, but my mom is still practicing. And my younger brother just joined the practice two years ago. It’s a family affair, if you didn’t know.”

“Actually, it’s not medical. Well, not for me. It’s about my son.”

Her brow furrows and she leans forward slightly, hands clasped in front of her. “I see. And what is wrong with him?”

“Nothing—that I know of.” I see the confusion cross her face and take a deep breath. “This is coming out in a jumble and I’m going to sound crazy, but bear with me for a second here. Essentially, my son has been… kidnapped.”

Her eyes widen in horror. “Have you called the police? I’m not sure how I can—”

“I can’t call the police. The man who took him has connections everywhere, including police officers. I have to do this on my own.”

She blinks, like she needs a second to digest that. I wonder if I’m about to get thrown out of here. I bet the bitchy receptionist would love to see that.

“Who is he?” she asks finally.

“He’s the leader of a mafia here in Chicago.”

She gasps and claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. Aryana, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s Arya now,” I correct. “And thank you. I came here because my son is still young. He hasn’t been to a doctor yet, and I’m wondering if the man’s wife has maybe tried to have him seen by a pediatrician. I’ve called around, but no one will give me any information.”

“It would be a HIPAA violation for them to tell you anything. Even telling me is a violation,” she says. “But…”

“But what?” I press hopefully.

She gnaws at her lip. “Well, as doctors, we talk. When the matter is important enough. I may be able to ask around for you.”

For the first time in days, my heart soars. “Could you really? I don’t want to get you involved in this, but I don’t know where else to turn. I’m desperate.”

She nods. “I’m sure. I’d prefer if you didn’t mention my name to anyone. Ever. But I can help. I can try, at least.”

“Thank you.” I reach out and grab her hands with both of mine. “The woman he’s most likely to be with is heavily pregnant with twins—due any day. And Lukas is only two months old.”

“Do you have a picture?”

The question is so normal. What new mother doesn’t have a picture of her child? A million pictures, even?

But suddenly, I realize I don’t have a single picture of me with Lukas. Anywhere.

My face heats up. “I actually don’t. Not on me. No.”

“I have a printer,” she says helpfully, hitching a thumb over her shoulder. “If you send me one, I can print it out.”

My face must be bright red by now. “I don’t have any pictures of him. I lost my phone and there’s no back-up, and—”

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