Page 9

Amelia

A chill runs through Lucas’ apartment. It’s been over a month since I’ve been in here, having stopped in after the accident only to find his best suit for the burial.

It’s just as horrible standing here now as it was then. Without Lucas here, it’s just an empty apartment, even with his things still filling the space.

The artwork he hated that he purchased at an auction, but our father wanted it, still hangs in the hallway. Lucas spent a small fortune outbidding the shopper Dad had sent.

Pulling my cardigan tighter around me, I make my way through the living room to his office.

His assistant has already gone through the files and pulled anything that should be brought back to the office. Everything else is just his personal files or copies.

My phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans, and I pull it out. It’s Saturday so the center shouldn’t have too many emergencies. But I’m always only a text away.

Don’t forget. We have an appointment with the judge this afternoon.

I frown at the screen.

My romantic fiancé.

An appointment.

He makes it sound more like a doctor’s visit than a wedding ceremony.

No.

It’s more like a trip to the dentist.

I’m aware. I type back.

Seriously, it’s been three days since that night at the club. A night I can’t stop thinking about and one that keeps ruining my panties whenever I do.

I’ve tried explaining to myself that just because he’s able to do things to my body that no one has ever done before doesn’t mean this is going to work. It’s a forced marriage. I have no choice here.

So fine. I’ll marry the brute, move into his place tonight like we agreed on, and be done with this whole thing. Come Monday morning, I’ll go back to work and keep doing what I do.

He can do whatever mobsters do, and we’ll just live our lives.

Ours won’t be the first loveless marriage. I watched my mother and father go through life barely even speaking to each other.

It ruined her, having a husband who wouldn’t pay a moment’s notice to her. And when she started on the pain pills, he only became more obsessed with ignoring her.

But I’m not my mother. I won’t turn to drugs to numb my pain. She went into her marriage believing Dad wanted her, that he loved her. I’m not going in blind.

There’s no love here. Only a mutual benefit to fulfilling my brother’s insane stipulations.

Sitting at Lucas’ desk, I lean back in the leather office chair, remembering all the times he sat here lecturing me on my grades or how late I was staying out with my friends.

Losing my father at sixteen had been a weird blessing. No one wants to believe losing their parent is a good thing in their life, but Dad wasn’t exactly a father.

Not in any real sense. I lived with him, at least in the same house. He occasionally showed up for dinner, but as for any actual parenting, he couldn’t be bothered.

Him dying meant I was able to move in with Lucas full-time and have someone around who actually wanted me there. I was just a reminder to my father. The reason he had to marry Mom. Her golden ticket.

My chest aches with the memory of his nickname for me. On the rare occasions he actually had to deal with me, he liked to throw it at me like a dart aimed at a board. And he hit the bullseye every time.

Lucas, even though he was my half-brother, never treated me as anything other than his little sister. Overprotective sometimes and nosey to a fault, especially when it came to my social life, but he was never cruel.

Unless you count the current situation.

A framed picture of the two of us sitting on the corner of his desk catches my eye. It was taken at my college graduation two years ago. His arm is slung over my shoulder and I’m holding a huge bouquet of flowers he’d brought for the occasion. We’re both smiling like nothing in the world could hurt us.

He’d been so excited for me. We’d already gotten the foundation started, but with my degree finished I was put in charge of the center.

It had been his stipulation when I finally got him to agree to my plans. Finish school, then he’d give me full control of the center. I’d already been working there since we opened it a year before, but he’d hired outside help to get it on its feet.

For the first year the center was opened, I trained every day with the manager he’d hired to open it. She’d shown me all of the ins and outs, making the transition after graduation a smooth one. And Lucas had been standing behind me every step of the way, supporting and encouraging me.

Tears threaten, but I shake them off.

I don’t have time for a breakdown right now.

I have a mission. Last night, it occurred to me that if Lucas had thought ahead enough to put this insanity into his estate will, he might have left something behind explaining it to me.

He’d never mentioned Dmitri to me, so I have no reason to believe he would have pushed this union if that car hadn’t stolen Lucas from us.

Lucas always kept our personal documents in a safe here in his office, but I’ve never actually seen it. After looking around, I don’t see any obvious looking safe, so I start opening drawers and file cabinets.

I finally find it in the closet full of file boxes. Grabbing the key ring with a mess of keys his assistant gave me after the funeral, I sit in front of it, trying each one. It would have been nice if they’d been labeled.

The fifth key does the trick and the door opens. I scoot out of the way and move in front of the opening, expecting to find a few files inside.

There are several file folders beneath a leather-bound ledger, so I lift it out of the way, dropping it on the floor beside me. Each file folder has a name on it. One for him, my father, his mother, my mother, and then mine on the very bottom.

As I move further into the closet to lean against the wall, my knee flips the ledger over and it falls open. Cradling the files in my lap, I pull mine to the top of the pile and flip through the papers.

He’s put my high school report cards in here along with my transcripts from college. Other certificates from my school year are in here, too.

Random accolades like making the dean’s list all four years of college, the letter of recommendation I received from a teacher in high school to help me get into college, it’s all here like some proud parent would store.

My chest tightens. That’s what he was, really. After Mom died, he’d taken on her role even though he didn’t live with us. He’d checked up on me when I was sick. If the school needed to contact someone, they called him first. My father had been second on the call list.

I lean my head back against the wall and take a deep breath. He was always trying to protect me, so why has he delivered me into the hands of the Russian mafia?

There’s nothing here to help me understand. No letter left for me, no explanation of anything. I suppose that’s what happens when you die unexpectedly at forty—no answers are left behind.

I gather up the files and pick up the ledger. It’s time to really start going through his apartment. I can’t keep it forever.

As I lift the ledger into my lap, I catch a name scribbled in Lucas’ handwriting.

Dragunov

Scanning the pages, I see it written over and over with phrases like ‘approval pending’ and ‘redirect to third-party escrow.’ Why is Dmitri’s name in here? I flip to the first page of the ledger. My father’s handwriting is on the first page.

At the beginning of the ledger only his surname is written, but by the time I reach present day, his first name is being used and it’s all Lucas’ writing from the year my father died.

I shove up to my feet, carrying the files and the heavy ledger to his desk so I can get a better look at it.

Page after page is documentation of how entwined my family has become with the Dragunov family.

I’m no accountant, but it seems evident that my father and then my brother have been washing money for the mob for years.

The first date on the ledger is years after Mom died, but it already had a running total. There must be another log somewhere. I set the book down on Lucas’ desk and go about finding the first book.

It’s not in the same safe, but Lucas wouldn’t have just one small safe.

My father was an Alderman. If anyone found out about this, he would have been completely ruined.

It would have destroyed Lucas’ chances at building the real estate investment firm he worked so hard to build from the ground up. No one would have trusted him with the funding that they did if they knew he and my father had ties to the Russian mob.

Why would he risk so much?

My phone dances on top of Lucas’ desk as another text message comes through. Deciding to check it in a minute, I tear through the rest of Lucas’ closet trying to find another safe. When I find nothing, I open the first file box.

There are more files, but beneath them are more leather-bound books that look just like the first one I found. Flipping through them quickly, I find the first entry.

It’s dated a month after Mom died.

I sink to the floor, staring at the entries as though they can somehow speak to me. To explain what my family was doing getting mixed up with the mafia.

Our father was no saint. And not to speak ill of the dead, but the man is probably roasting in hell at the moment. He was as corrupt as any politician could be; why would he need to get money from the mafia?

My phone vibrates again from inside the office, pulling me out of my confused daze.

Climbing back up to my feet, I drop the ledger into an open box. They’re all open now, spread out around me in the closet, and a few have spilled out into the office.

I step over one of them on my way to the desk and snap up my phone as another message comes through.

It’s three fifteen.

Shit. I look at the time on my screen.

I was supposed to meet Dmitri at his penthouse for our wedding half an hour ago. The judge is probably already there.

On my way.

If I ignore the speed limits enough, I can make it across town to his place in the next twenty minutes.

“Lia?” Christian’s voice calls from the doorway and I stiffen. “Lia, what are you doing?” He walks into the office and sweeps his gaze over the boxes strewn across the floor.

“Hey, Christian.” I push on a light air. “I just needed to get some files.”

I pick up the manila folders and put them on top of the first ledger I’d found that’s still sitting on the desk.

He eyes me. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. What, uh, what are you doing here?”

“I came to check on the place. You’ve been so busy, and it’s been a lot, so I just stop in once a week, make sure everything’s okay.” He eyes the boxes. “Did the maids leave all that out? They’re not supposed to be cleaning out the closets.”

“Oh, no. They didn’t. But that reminds me, I should cancel the service. And I need to get all this stuff boxed up and at least put into storage so the apartment can be rented out.”

“I can do that for you. I know how hard all of this has been.” He tilts his head and gives me a pitying smile.

It mirrors the hundreds of them I was given at Lucas’ funeral.

Odd, I don’t remember getting any at Dad’s funeral service. Mostly blank stares or polite nods.

“I can handle it, Christian, really. But thank you for checking up on the place. I hadn’t even thought to do it.”

“Are you sure you’re all right? I haven’t heard from you since that guy stole you out of my apartment a few nights ago.”

I bite back a laugh. Stole me? If that’s how he remembers it, he sure didn’t do much to help save me.

“I’m fine,” I say. “But… you should know I’ve agreed to go through with the marriage.”

His eyes widen. Panic washes over his expression, but it’s short-lived before he gets control of himself.

“You don’t have to do that, Lia. We can fight the will.”

“We can. And it will take a year, maybe more, and in the process the foundation and the center will suffer. Even when I get my trust in a few months, it’s not enough to fund the center for more than a couple of months.” I sigh. “I can’t take the risk of having it close down. Too many people depend on it.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then takes a small step toward me.

“Look, Lia, I know you have wrapped yourself up in the center, especially after what happened with your mother, but you can’t sacrifice yourself like this. Not even for that.”

“Do you know how much Dmitri Dragunov is worth?” I don’t give him time to answer. “He’s worth five hundred million dollars, and that’s just what’s on paper. His actual worth is probably closer to a billion.”

“Unless the IRS gets a hold of him, or the Feds,” he cuts me off. “You can’t be serious about this. He’s dangerous.”

“It’s a business transaction, that’s all.” Moreau Investments continues to fund the foundation, which keeps the center open.

I want nothing to do with the realty business. Lucas knew that. Maybe if I’d minored in finance the way Lucas had originally wanted me to, I would have some interest there. But money isn’t my thing. The everyday care for people in need, that’s where my passion lies.

“You’re not thinking clearly.” Christian frowns, like he’s disappointed in me. Like I have a real choice here, and I’m making the wrong one.

“I am. I’m being responsible,” I insist. “My mother married a man she thought loved her and look how it turned out. My eyes are open here. Dmitri and I will have a businesslike marriage.”

Except for the moments his lips are pressed against my skin, or when his fingers probe the deepest urges I possess. Christian doesn’t need to know about that. Those little bits are just for me.

A reward for agreeing to do this. Just because a marriage is loveless doesn’t mean it has to be passionless.

And from what I’ve experienced beneath his touch, I can say there’s at least passion there.

That will have to be enough.

“I just don’t want to see you unhappy.” Christian pauses. “Lucas wouldn’t want that.”

“Lucas left me to marry a man I don’t even know. I’m not sure my happiness has anything to do with why he put this stipulation into his will.”

My phone goes off again. Ready to fire back a text telling Dmitri to just give me a few more minutes, I flip the phone over to the screen.

Sorry to bug you on a Saturday. A pipe burst. We’re flooding.

“Dammit.” I type back that I’m on my way. “Sorry, Christian, I really have to go.”

I grab my purse on the way to the door.

“Everything okay?”

“It’s the center. A pipe broke.” I look around at the mess I’ve made of the office.

“I got this. I’ll put the boxes back. Go.” He waves me off.

As I race down the hall and out of the apartment, my phone goes off again. This time Dmitri is calling. Like I don’t have enough problems at this very moment.

I push him to voicemail. When I get the center dealt with, I’ll call him.

Once I explain, he’ll understand.