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My brow lifts. “Blunt.”
“I’ve learned to stop wasting time,” she says, lips painted blood red to match her nails. Her gaze drips heat. “I’ve always admired your... firm grasp of the law and how good you are with your hands in other areas.”
She trails her finger along the rim of her glass like it's my collarbone she’s teasing. Subtlety isn’t her thing.
“I’m flattered,” I say, setting down my bourbon. “But you’re my client, Valentina. That complicates things.”
“I like complicated.” Her lips part in a mock pout. “Besides, I was your client when you bent me over your desk two years ago.”
“That was before you were married.”
And now she’s married to one of my most influential clients. I had to clean up her financial mess so her also insanely rich father could ensure her future husband was protected from Valentina’s scandal. It was just a few quick fucks in my office. Which were fun as the woman sucks cock like a pro and likes to take it in every hole she has.
But it didn’t go beyond that, and I’m not at all interested now. Especially as I still have a slow-burning poison coursing through my veins from a one-night stand that haunts me every waking hour and makes me feel like I’m impotent, as I can’t seem to get aroused by anyone else. And that’s after just one night with Tara Craft—it’s a good thing I didn’t go ahead with my plan to keep her on a hook and woo her away from Gavriil. Because I’m sure it would be me on the hook.
Fuck!I down the rest of my drink and let it burn away the tension coiling in my gut from letting my mind stray back to Tara fucking Craft.
“Oh poo!” Valentina pouts prettily. “My husband has never satisfied me like you do.” Her eyes glitter with lust.
I open my mouth to shut her down again when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I glance down and see the name flashing across the screen.
Konstantin. Thank fuck.
“I need to take this,” I say, standing.
Her gaze follows me with annoyance.
“Konstantin,” I answer as I step out of the restaurant lounge and into the quieter hallway, finding an out-of-the-way corner. “Where have you been? I sent a message to you two days ago.”
“I got it,” Konstantin tells me. “I haven’t had time to respond.”
Since when has Konstantin not had time to respond? My brow furrows as suspicion rises. But I bite it down. I’m just being paranoid because of the mission I’ve got him on.
“Do you have information?”
“I do,” he replies. “I found out what was in the puzzle box.”
I pause. There’s something in his voice. Something different. I shake it off and put it down to my annoyance with my client.
“And?” I'm tense waiting for the response.
“All there was was a photo of Anya Novikov and a birth certificate.”
That hits me square in the chest. I wasn’t told what was on the birth certificate, but I want to know. “A birth certificate? For whom?”
“Lidiya Zorin.”
I frown. “Zorin?” What the fuck? “Isn’t that Leonid’s sister?”
“No. This girl would be too young as she was born in 1998. So I doubt it’s his sister. More like a daughter or a niece.”
“Surely it would’ve listed the parents?” Another bit of information the general hadn’t given me.
The only information I’m sure of is that Tara is his granddaughter and Leonid was his son-in-law. I don’t even know his daughter’s name, and all records pertaining to the general and Anya, I don’t have clearance for. There isn’t other online information about their family either. But that’s not surprising as they are both tied to the RMSAD, and they go to great lengths to protect the identities of their employees and employees' families.
“No. It’s not a full birth certificate, ” Konstantin tells me. “It just lists the child's name, birth date, and the hospital she was born in. No parents.”
“We need to find the full one.”