Page 112 of The Billionaire's Baby

"Naïve?" I snap, "Iwas naïve?"

He regards me with a steady gaze. "If you thought you could just run part of the family business and not be involved..." He raises his shoulders.

"What do you mean?" I scowl. "I made sure to keep my distance from any of your illegal activities. Besides the security agency had always been run independent of the other companies."

"On the contrary, it was the best cover you could provide for our activities," Niko replies.

"What?" I stare. "How is that possible?"

"Technology, and the best hackers money can buy." He tilts his head, "It's amazing how it helps get through the most secure of firewalls."

I pale, "Do you…do you mean to say you have been using my company as a front all along for whatever activities it is you guys get up to?"

He flattens his lips and that's reply enough. Anger thrums at my nerve endings. "So all this time, I thought I was building my career and my company in as honest a way as possible and you were using it as a front? Do you even realize what a breach of confidence that is to my clients?"

"We made sure never to compromise them in any way." Niko raises his hands. "We simply used the information you turned up, on a strictly need-to basis."

"Need-to basis?" I curl my fingers into fists.

"We made sure we didn't undermine your company in any form," Niko adds.

"Is that what you think?" I swallow. Everything I'd built thus far was a lie. Anger thuds at my temples. My fingers tremble and I press them together to stop myself from doing something I'll regret later.

"Besides, Karina," Roman, who’s been silent so far, speaks up, "you know the work we do benefits the thousands we employ around the world."

"And they have no idea of the kind of people they are working for. Sure, it’s one big deception, but hey, if you don’t want to see the truth, what can I do about it?"

"I had no idea you were so against us." Niko frowns. "I knew you didn’t particularly care for what we did, but you never told us how much you were vehemently against our family business."

"That's the problem." I square my shoulders. "None of you ever bothered to listen to what I was trying to say."

Silence, then I glance around the table, "I demand that you stop using my business for your interests unless you want me to quit."

The silence stretches, then Nikolai finally replies, "I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Of course not. Why does it matter that it's my business? One I've poured my life into. One I've nurtured and built up from the ground up." I stare at Niko, then turn to my father, "If mama was alive, she'd understand. She's the only one who was ever there for me." Tears trickle from my eyes and I swipe them away from my cheeks. "And she'd still be if it weren't for the 'family business.'" I make air-quotes with my fingers. "It's the reason she was killed, and yet, all of you refused to walk away." My chest hurts and my head begins to pound. "It's your fault she's not here with us. You are responsible for her death. You murdered her."

"Enough." My father’s palm strikes the table again and I flinch. Jesus, why the hell can't I shut my mouth? What's wrong with me?

I clearly have a death wish. Nothing else can explain why I’ve decided to dump all the dirty family laundry on the table, and in front of the man who…is likely the one person who can actually understand what I am going through now. Shit, why do I have to think that? Because it’s true. Because he’d get why I hate this entire business so much. After all, he too, had been a victim of the Mafia. And sure, his methods of hunting them aren’t all that orthodox, but he hates the organized crime syndicates with almost as much of a passion as I do.

"Is that what you believe?" my father asks. "All these years, is that what you thought of me?"

I draw in a breath, then shake my head. "I’m sorry," I mumble. "That was uncalled for."

"But you hold me responsible for her death?"

I wring my hands together. "No," I bite the inside of my cheek, "Yes. I don't know." I hunch my shoulders. "Nothing changes the fact that she was shot because of the enemies you made, and yet, you refused to leave this life."

"Because... I can't," my father thunders. "You can't leave the Bratva once you're in. And your brothers... They made their choices when they came of age."

"And I made mine." I set my jaw.

"And I don't want what happened to her to happen to you."

My father glares at me with the kind of look that has quelled many in his organization. The kind he’s only used a few times with me—notably, when I had broken into his study and stolen his cigars and his favorite whiskey and managed to get really drunk and sick. My stomach churns again. I grab the bottle of water and swig some more of it.

"I know how much you miss her." My father's voice lowers, "We all do."