Page 59

ROMAN

I promised myself I’d let her run.

But that was before I saw her in that damn gown.

Before I felt her hot, silk-clad curves under my hands, and the need to take her one last time took my breath away.

Darya Petrovsky is the star of the ball.

It gave me a savage pride to face the press with her on my arm. To watch her confront Inger and hold her own with the Russian elite. To hold her on the dance floor, knowing that every man in the room wished he was me.

It’s a wonder I made it into that office before I ripped her dress off.

Seeing Inger glaring at me, I give her an evil smile. I probably shouldn’t take so much satisfaction in knowing that Darya and I were fucking loudly enough to leave Inger in no doubt of what we’re doing. To leave anyone in any doubt. Then again, it’s hardly like anybody in this room can afford to get offended by anything I do.

I own every single one of them, one way or another.

Ofelia comes out of the powder room and heads over to Matvei, smiling shyly. The kid just spent five minutes almost pissing his pants as he stuttered out a request for Ofelia to come to tea with his mother tomorrow. It was a very proper invitation, and despite his red-faced nerves, he looked me in the eye and shook my hand when he asked. I had a moment where I genuinely considered scaring the shit out of him just for the hell of it. I’m clearly losing the killer edge, however. In the end, I just gave my permission and told him to send a car for her at ten.

That means Darya is alone in that powder room.

Telling myself I’m just concerned for her safety, I head across the dance floor, smirking at Inger’s thunderous expression as I pass her.

Oh, just wait. The show hasn’t even begun yet.

I catch Darya just as she’s coming out of the corridor. One look at her face wipes the smile off my own. She’s holding her clutch with both hands, so tightly her knuckles are white.

“What happened?” I ask tersely, my eyes traveling all over the corridor.

“Listen, Roman.” Her eyes dart away from mine, and her lips are entirely bloodless. “You need to ask Nikolai why he was taking photographs of Masha last summer. Ofelia and Mickey said he was filming her, and when Mickey hacked his phone, there was a stack of photographs and footage of her on there.”

“ What? ” Completely blindsided, I stare at her, feeling a slow, deadly rage build inside me. “Nikolai did fucking what? ”

“You need to know.” Darya glances over her shoulder, then around the room. “Roman, I think I need to lie down. I—don’t feel very well. I think I’ve had too much champagne.”

“Bullshit.” I stare at her narrowly, whatever momentary peace I’ve found utterly stripped away. “You’ve been drinking soda water all night.”

It’s here. I can feel it. In her warning about Nikolai. In her pale face and shaking hands gripping the clutch. That dumb excuse about needing to lie down.

Alexei found her.

And now she wants to run.

And despite all of my logical decision-making, despite knowing that it’s safer, for her and for all of us, if she’s gone—despite all of those things, I suddenly know I can’t bear to let Darya go.

I didn’t expect this to happen. To hesitate.

I’ve been waiting for this moment. Planning for it, even. I have an envelope inside one jacket pocket containing a letter, ticket, passport, and a thick stack of cash. I’ve known all night that it was going to come to this. With the Guapa moored right offshore, Alexei was always going to come for his sister tonight.

It’s what I would do.

I thought I could tell her to go. I even planned a speech, which I almost gave to her back in that office. I was pathetically relieved when Ofelia interrupted us. And now that I’m here again, I can’t do it. The words are stuck fast in my throat. All I can see is her wide, terrified eyes, the body I still crave beyond all reason, vulnerable beneath that thin layer of silk.

How can she run anywhere, dressed like that?

Every man will want her. Any of them could try to take her against her will.

My fists clench involuntarily. Even the thought of someone putting a hand on that beautiful body makes me physically sick. Imagining her trying to fight someone off, sobbing as she tries to get free, terrifies the absolute hell out of me.

“Darya.” I choke on the name as my hand clasps her arm. “Don’t do this. Don’t run.”

“Why not?” Her eyes flare with a sudden, fierce anger. “Why, Roman? Because you can’t bear to let me go? Because you would be bereft without me?” She twists from my grasp. I’m so surprised by her anger that I let her.

“Darya—”

“Or is it,” she says in a low, furious voice, her face close to mine, “that you don’t want me to run because you know that without me, you can’t get into my family’s vault?”

Cold, brutal shock washes through me, momentarily robbing me of both breath and words.

“All this time, you’ve talked to me about trust.” Her face is deathly pale, with not even the faintest hint of color, her eyes glittering with hard anger. “But when were you going to trust me , Roman? When were you going to tell me that you’re Roman Borovsky?”

The air dances and swirls around me, the noise of the ball suddenly muffled behind a queer, dizzy wall. I stare at Darya, her words reaching me as if from a long distance.

“I saw that Borovsky safe you keep behind a locked door in your penthouse. I told myself it was just a coincidence. But it isn’t, is it, Roman?”

I shiver involuntarily. “How—” My voice cracks. “How did you get into that room?”

“ That’s your question? Seriously?” Her laugh is strangled. “You got drunk with Dimitry and left the damned door open, that’s how. Your maid wanted to know why the safe inside that room was empty. She was worried you’d think she robbed you. But you don’t keep valuables in that safe, do you, Roman? The safe is the valuable thing. You keep it locked up in that room because your father made it. Well, I hope it warms your bed after I’m gone.” Her chest is heaving, her voice rasping in her throat. I want to interrupt her, to explain, but I’m tongue-tied, my mouth thick and clumsy.

“My mother.” Her voice catches. “She died because the Orlovs couldn’t get into our vault without your fingerprints, or the key your father hid. They didn’t believe us when we said we didn’t know where the key was. They hurt me, Roman!” Her voice cracks painfully. “They hurt my brother. They’re still hurting him. My father nearly died. And all that time, you were what?” She flings out an arm toward the ballroom. “In places like this, drinking champagne and planning for the day when you’d find me? When you’d reclaim your legacy? Is that all this has been to you, Roman?”

“No!” I roar, loudly enough to make those closest to us turn around curiously. “Come with me.” I take her by the elbow and steer her toward the end powder room, where someone is just coming out. “You need to understand—”

But my words never leave my mouth.

There’s an earth-shattering explosion.

I throw myself onto Darya and hit the floor, and then everything turns to darkness.

I wake to Darya saying my name, trying to wriggle out from beneath me. “Roman!” She’s shaking my shoulders. “Roman, you have to wake up.”

I lurch to my feet with her clutch in my hand, my fists balled and knees bent, swaying as I try to regain my senses. I wipe my hand across my face, and it comes away covered in blood.

I turn away from her, trying to breathe, fumbling in my pockets.

She’s going to run now. I know that.

I need to get it together.

I slip the envelope containing the passport, ticket, and cash into her purse.

“The children.” Darya grasps my arm, reaching for her clutch. I let her take it and turn back to find her anger of a moment ago gone, replaced by white terror. “You have to find the children, Roman. The Orlovs are going to take them—”

“ What? ” I stare at her, first in utter shock, then, as the meaning of her words dawn on me, in disbelief.

A millisecond later, both are eradicated by overwhelming, all-consuming, fucking fury .

“You knew? ” My voice shakes with rage. “You knew the Orlovs were coming for the children , and you did nothing?”

The guilty slide of her eyes away from mine is all the confirmation I need.

Darya knew this was coming. She knew, and she simply let those bastards walk in and unleash hell.

Charming everyone was a lie. Fucking me was a lie. Everything she’s done from the moment she walked out in that dress tonight has been one big, horrible lie.

And I loved her so much, I fell for it.

I can’t deal with this. With her.

I need to find my children. I need to make them safe.

Men are coming toward us through the smoke.

My men.

Warriors who need me to lead them. Who can help me save my children.

Darya backs away from me, her eyes darting this way and that, seeking an escape route. I do nothing to stop her. I look at the torn silk dress I paid for, the clutch held tightly to her belly, and my father’s jewels in her ears, and I wonder how the fuck I could ever have been so stupid as to believe in her innocence.

Dimitry puts his mouth against my ear. “Ofelia and Masha are gone. The Orlovs have them both.”

White-hot rage races through me, hardening immediately into something far darker. Into the single-minded focus I honed long ago, on the streets.

Into the savage killer the fucking Orlov family made me become.

I take one last look at Darya. “You said once you’d never run again unless I told you to.”

She stares at me, white-faced and trembling, and I know she’s as guilty as hell.

My lips curl in contempt. “So go on, then, Darya Petrovsky. Run. Run fast.

“Because if any harm has come to my children, I swear I’ll hunt you down and fucking kill you myself.”

I turn around and walk away from her.

It’s time to forget Darya Petrovsky.

My children are gone—and the Orlovs just bought themselves a fucking war.