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“Joder.” Darya swears softly in Spanish, which makes me smile again, despite our conversation. “Fine, then. Roman said that if Dimitry actually managed to find you, that he’d better, and I quote,keep the bitch out of gun range.”

“Well, fuck.” I strive to keep my tone light, although I’ve seen enough of Roman’s icy rage to imagine his delivery with uncomfortable clarity. “Then I guess it’s fortunate there’s an ocean or two between us, hey?”

She doesn’t laugh. “I’m worried about him, Abby,” she says quietly. “Roman loves the children and me. But losing Dimitry... it’s like someone has cut off his right arm. He’s not really angry at you. No,” she goes on, when I give a derisive snort of laughter. “I mean it. He’s not. He’s angry at himself more than anyone else. And he’s so worried about Dimitry it’s giving him nightmares, not that he’d ever admit it. And I’m telling you now, when he knows about this call, he won’t rest until he knows where you both are.”

“Then I need to ask you to keep this between us for as long as you can.” I frown. “He can’t come here, Darya.”

“I have to tell him Dimitry is alive,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry, Abby, but that isn’t the kind of secret I’m comfortable keeping from him.”

“I understand.” It’s my turn to sigh. “And I’d do the same in your position. But please, when you do tell him, try to make him understand that there’s a reason Dimitry hasn’t asked him for help. It’s not just stubbornness, although I know that’s partof it. It’s also because Dimitry fucking loves that prick, just as much as you do, and he knows that involving Roman in this will put you all in danger. Neither of us could live with ourselves if something happened to any of you. I need to know you’ll make Roman see that.”

“I’ll do my best,” Darya says reluctantly. “But I don’t like it, and I can guarantee you that Roman will like it even less.”

27

Abby

“The two of you are very close.” Leon diplomatically waits until I’ve wiped away my tears and semicomposed myself before rejoining me on the terrace.

“Yes.” I give him a watery smile. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “I needed to talk to her. Whatever comes, I would have hated facing it without having cleared the air between us.”

He inclines his head politely. “I could also set up a call to your parents, if you wish.” He smiles at my startled look. “It was obvious, when you spoke about them both earlier, how much they mean to you.”

Suddenly I’m fighting back tears for the second time in an hour. I’ve been trying not to think about that final goodbye with my father ever since we left him on the dock in Bangkok, just like I’ve been avoiding thinking about how Suze is coping with a pack of bikies tramping through her kitchen. Or about what she must think of me now, after Dad has told her where—and how—he found me.

Even if I was only naked under that hotel robe because I was worried my dress had been bugged, Dad couldn’t possiblyhave known that. I know how it must have looked to him, what he must have thought.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk to my parents.” I hear myself speak as if from a distance. “I’d rather keep them right out of all this.”

Leon leans forward, hands clasped between his legs. “You said your father insisted on accompanying Dimitry to Thailand to search for you?”

I nod.

“That doesn’t sound like a man who wants to be kept out of the loop. And if you don’t mind me saying so, Abby, there’s no parent on this earth who doesn’t want to hear that their child is alive and safe.”

There’s an edge to his voice, and again I’m aware of a certain hardness in his expression that seems out of character for an art dealer, even one clearly familiar with the black market.

“You sound like you speak from experience.” I eye him covertly. “Do you have children yourself then, Leon?”

“It’s clear that your parents love you, and you them.” He dodges the question with the practiced smile that I’m beginning to find very unsettling. “I can ask Zinaida to get a message to them discreetly, if you’re concerned that they’re being monitored.”

I give him a sideways look. “You seem to be on very close terms with Zinaida. Decorating her club, staying in her villa... setting up a private phone call with my closest friend.”

I look out over the bay, but I’m aware of Leon’s stillness, the way he carefully considers before he answers me.

“Zinaida and I have worked together before. Not just with interior decoration.” He nods at my half-full glass. “Would you like me to refresh that for you?”

“No, thank you.” I face him directly. “How, exactly, have you worked together before?”

The edge of his mouth twists upward, and I fight the urge to return his smile.

Don’t fall for it, Abby. The fucker is hiding something, no matter how likable he might be.

“As I mentioned to Dimitry earlier, Zinaida runs a foundation that helps rehabilitate victims of human trafficking.” The twisted smile has a definite wry edge. “You look as surprised as Dimitry did when I told him,” Leon says dryly. “But I imagine you’ve been close enough to Dimitry’s world that you understand why a woman might cultivate a certain... reputation.”

I think of the members of the Stevanovsky clan that I’ve met since Dimitry and I started seeing each other.

All men.