Page 16 of City Of Thieves

He sizes me up for a moment, his jaw clenching. “Come home.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” I start walking away again.

“Come home and talk to us…please.I know you, Tatiana. I know there’s a reason you keep pushing us away.” He drags his hand through his messy, stoner hair in frustration. “You can’t hide your big secret forever, bluebell. Whatever the fuck it is.”

Bluebell.

I think of carpets of color, and then forests ploughed deep and destroyed.

I think of a sweetness gone sour.

“Who says it’s a secret?” I whip round, my teeth bared. “Maybe I’m just embarrassed to be related to Mr. Bribery and Corruption himself. I hear he’s thinking of running for President next year. Is he that desperate to turn the White House black?”

“Bullshit.” Seb’s grin has all but disappeared now. It’s like the setting sun on the ruins of us. “It doesn’t matter what Dad is, wants to be, or was. He loves us. He lovesyou.If you called him right now, he’d pick up on the first ring. If you ever needed anything…”

I pause by the doorway to the atrium. “Not possible, I’m afraid.” I flash him my coldest smile. “I deleted his number the day I walked away from his shitshow. I’ll get Erika to see you out.”

“Tatiana.”

My smile drops like a stone. “Don’t come here, Seb. I mean it. If I see your face again, I’ll call the police.”

The light is fading as I walk back through the gallery, or maybe the film of tears over my eyes is blocking it out. Heading straight for my office, I pull the blinds and slam the door. That’s when I finally crumble—all alone in the darkness—sliding down the wall to the floor, with my palm pressed tight across my mouth to muffle my cries as my tears spill fast and hot over my skin.

I allow myself exactly five seconds of raw, unfiltered vulnerability, and then I’m climbing back into my icy veneer. Rising to my feet, I sweep the last of my pain away and reach for the light switch.

A minute later, it’s as if the meltdown never happened.

The phone on my desk rings as I’m putting the finishing touches to my newly applied make-up.

“Miss Sanders. Mr. X is on the phone,” Erika announces.

“Put him through,” I say, steeling myself.

“Kiska,” he purrs as soon as the call connects, his accent just as thick and muddy as the first time we met, drowning me in a flood of black memories. “You have been avoiding me.”

“On the contrary, I’ve been busy acquiring your painting.”

“And enjoying a little family reunion, I hear.”

I pause. “My brother won’t be making the same mistake twice, I can assure you.”

I’ve long suspected the gallery’s security guards of being his spies, and now I have the proof.

“See to it that he does not. You know the consequences of defying me,kiska.”

I bite down on my tongue to stop my next words from slipping out, the tang of metal filling my mouth. He hates eagerness. He sees it as a weakness. If I beg, he’ll only prolong my suffering.

“Regency’swill make delivery of your new painting within twelve hours of full payment,” I say, changing the subject.

There’s another pause. “I want it in Moscow by the weekend. My men will ensure its safe delivery. Call me once it arrives at the gallery… And,kiska…? Tell that pretty blonde assistant not to waste any paper on my invoice.Youwill be covering that cost in punishment for speaking with your brother today, after I strictly forbade you to do so again.”

My heart sinks like a stone. “As you wish.”

“Good.” He chuckles darkly, knowing exactly how much debt I’m in with the bank already. “As always,kiska, it is a pleasure doing business with you.” He starts to hang up.

“Wait...” I trail off in desperation.

Wanting.