Page 30

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ANASTASIA

C ormac’s address brings me to a park on the edge of the city, where half the street lights lining the sidewalk aren’t even lit.

It isn’t the safest place to be, by far, especially for a woman alone at night, so once I park my car, I keep the doors locked and remain seated.

The parking lot is deserted.

An overflowing trashcan creaks slightly in the wind.

A paper bag drifts lazily across the ground, and the street light across from me flickers from time to time.

Sitting in silence, I rub my hands together against the chill creeping into my car and peer through the darkness.

I left a note for Faina so if anything does happen to me, she’ll know where to look.

She won’t be able to do anything to save me, but at least she will look for me.

I’m taking a huge risk trusting Cormac.

For all I know, he’s led me here to assassinate me, or worse, and given the history between our families, I can’t say I’d blame him.

My father snatched him from the street when he was just a child, and something like that can never be forgiven.

Would he hold that grudge against me too?

Or is my mind just too suspicious?

Drumming my fingers against my thigh, my attention repeatedly flits back to the clock on my dashboard.

The agreed time to meet arrives and passes.

Did I really rush all the way here just to be stood up?

My teeth graze my lower lip as I worry at the skin, debating what to do.

I could leave.

After all, I’m here and whoever I’m meeting is clearly late.

Or is this part of some kind of test to see how desperate I am for help?

Knowing my luck, it’ll end up working against me like everything else in this fucking world.

Tiredness pulls tight behind my eyes so I lift one hand and rub at them, fighting back a yawn.

I’ll wait ten more minutes.

The softest hum fills the air.

It’s so gentle that I don’t notice it for a few minutes until it suddenly grows incredibly loud.

A few seconds later, a motorbike screeches into the parking lot and skids to a stop a few feet away from my car.

My heart punches against my ribcage.

The driver is clad in black road leathers, their face hidden by an oval helmet with red piping around the visor.

It’s as black as their clothing and there’s nothing distinguishable about their features.

The driver kills the engine on the bike, then removes their leather gloves and sets them on the handles on the bike.

Their helmet tilts slightly as they glance around, and the moment they clock me in the car, suddenly, their entire stance shifts from tense and tight to relaxed.

Sliding from the bike, the man removes his helmet in one swift move and sets it on the seat of his bike, then he pats the top of it and starts striding toward my car.

The light above flickers on and his face glints into view.

I know him.

Rocky Barati.

How on earth is this Cormac’s friend?

“Anastasia?” Rocky calls as he approaches.

“You gonna stay in the car all night?” He holds up both hands as a cheeky smile creeps across his face.

“I’m not against it, but I’d rather not be chatting to a windshield, y’know?”

I don’t know much about Rocky other than a few stories.

People call him reckless and complain about his lack of interest in family matters.

Some say that’s the reason his father, Matteo, hasn’t passed the empire on to him, but I suspect differently.

Matteo gives the same vibes as my father—in it until death takes him.

Taking a deep, calming breath, I open the door and slide from the car, but I keep the door open as a barrier between me and Rocky.

“You’re late.”

Rocky’s face crumples as he lowers his hands.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s the bike, I swear. Ever since I got it, I think I can get everywhere in thirty seconds so I left late and traffic was weirdly heavy for this time of night. Who knew so many people have places to be at this time on a Thursday?”

His relaxed way of speaking reminds me of a simple conversation between friends, not a Russian Godmother and an Italian heir.

It throws me off because in an instant, he seems relaxed and easy while I’m used to a much more cagey approach to negotiations.

“So!” Rocky moves forward and leans against the hood of my car, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Cormac filled me in on your little predicament.”

My eyes narrow slightly.

“He told me you could help me.”

“Absolutely.”

“Why?” Suspicion spikes in my mind.

“Why would you help me?”

Rocky shrugs one shoulder higher than the other.

“I owe Cormac a few favors here and there, and I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“Why?”

“I’m drinking buddies with a few of the guys from Ivan Yegorov’s family. They talk. I listen. I heard rumors of a deal between the two of you and naturally, I got curious.”

“You…” He’s so open with the information that it’s almost alarming.

“You’re drinking buddies with Ivan’s men?”

“Sure. Just because they do the grunt work doesn’t mean they stop being people. Besides…” Rocky smiles brightly, and there’s something charmingly handsome about how happy he looks.

“People like Ivan run their mouths freely around their grunts. And after a few drinks, those grunts get talkative. I’m not saying I pry for information, but if I do hear something interesting, I keep an eye on it, y’know?”

“You’re not what I expected,” I say, finding myself relaxing in Rocky’s easygoing presence.

“Did you think I’d turn up here with threats and demands?” He arches one brow.

“Sort of.”

“Fair.” He laughs softly.

“Nah. I know how this shit works and I’m not here for that. Cormac needs a favor, and I can help with it, so I’m here. Tell me what you need.”

If this is part of some trap or nefarious scheme, I don’t even see it.

Rocky speaks openly as if we’ve been friends for years, and he’s so relaxed in his stance that I have no doubt about his abilities.

Someone like him can only be this relaxed if they're confident in their ability to handle trouble.

“I need security,” I begin to explain. “For the gala.”

“Ah.” Rocky grins. “The famous Remizova gala. Y’know, I’ve always wanted to attend that. You guys make it look fucking fantastic.”

“I can’t claim credit,” I say as an unexpected chuckle rises within me. “This is my first year.”

“Well I’ve seen the invitations.” He lets out a low whistle. “Looks pretty amazing so far.”

“I’m trying.” The urge to spill all my secrets wells up suddenly, then it hits me. Rocky appears relaxed and easygoing because it creates a sense of safety and security. That doesn’t make him any less dangerous.

If anything, it makes him more.

“So, you need some extra security?” he asks, watching me intently.

“Not exactly. I need security that people won’t know are security. People who are there for me because I’m paying them to be and will have my best interests at heart.”

“Okay.”

Words fail me for a few seconds. “Okay?”

“What?” Rocky shrugs lopsidedly once more. “You need that, and I can provide it.”

“I didn’t expect you to agree so easily. I thought there would be questions. Negotiation.”

Rocky laughs warmly. “Look, I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t already committed to doing what you needed. Like I said, Cormac filled me in a little and you’re giving me a chance to attend one of the most elite parties in the history of parties. I’d be a fool to say no. I don’t need to know the details because I know Cormac wouldn’t have called me if there were a risk of blowback onto my family. So whatever you have going on…” He waves one hand at me. “I’ll help you deal with it.”

“This is weird,” I murmur.

“Would it make you feel better if I demanded extreme monetary compensation?” Rocky grins.

“Maybe. I just…” Puffing out my cheeks, I rub anxiously at the back of my neck. “I’m used to everything being such a battle.”

“Such is life,” Rocky says. “But you don’t need to worry. I’ll get some of my guys together. You let me know when and where you want us and we’ll be there. But you’ll owe me one, understand?”

I don’t know if he truly means that or if he’s saying it to make me feel better, but it definitely makes me feel better. “I understand.”

“Excellent!” Rocky pushes up from my car and stretches his arms above his head. “Anything else?”

Should I ask him? Rocky’s already easily doing so much for me that the prospect of asking him for more feels like I’ll be overstaying my welcome, but he seems friendly, happy to help.

Where would be the harm in trusting someone just this once?

“Actually,” I say cautiously, “there’s one more thing I could use your help with. You’ll be compensated handsomely, of course.”

“Shoot.”

“Viktor Petrov.”

“I know him.” Rocky’s face tightens slightly. “Guy has a reputation.”

“Yeah.” I nod slowly. “Could you keep an eye on him when he appears at the gala? And… intervene if you see anything…” I trial off, seeking the right word.

“Anything detrimental to your reputation?” Rocky offers.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Easily.” Rocky smiles. “He won’t be able to piss without one of my guys cataloging how much.”

“Ew.” I snort. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Uhm…” I’ve asked too much already, but the urge is there and Rocky makes it feel easy.

“Ask,” Rocky says, leaning back against my car. “What is it?”

“There’s something else you might be able to help me with.”

Rocky’s head tilts to the side. “Which is?”

Bending back into my car, I rummage quickly in the glove compartment and pull out the bag containing the bloodied letter opener. I present it to Rocky, and his brows knit together as he studies the object in my hands, then his eyes flick up to mine.

“Can you help me with this?” I ask.

The lights are low, and the estate is asleep by the time I sneak back inside. My meeting with Rocky didn’t go the way I anticipated. He was much friendlier than I expected, which must have been Cormac’s way of doing things. I can’t imagine the heir to the Italian Mafia being that friendly to a stranger. His willingness to help should be suspicious, but not long after we parted, I received a call from Cormac, who wanted to make sure things had gone well.

Part of me wants to trust it. I want to believe that these decisions will help me and that I finally have someone in my corner, but the thought makes my chest squeeze and not even a long, hot shower can remove the sensation.

I trusted Erik. And Viktor.

Both of them have been working against me this entire time, and that betrayal runs deep.

So I can’t trust Cormac and I can’t rely on Rocky. Not completely. I need to be prepared for the gala to be a failure or a danger to my life.

The only problem is, I have no idea how to be prepared. How many backup plans will I need before it gets ridiculous? How long until my broken trust reduces me to a hermit who never leaves the house and exists only in contingency plans?

By the time I’m showered and in bed, the thoughts haven’t calmed. Despite exhaustion lingering in the corner of my mind, sleep feels impossible. I settle against the pillows and stare up at the ceiling, willing something to come out of nowhere and calm me down.

Nothing does.

As I lie there, something tightens slightly in my abdomen and I press a hand against my tummy.

Is my baby okay? Should I be worried? What if the stress of the gala and more results in something worse than the bleeding?

Too many questions, but as they spin around my mind, one other thought strikes me.

Erik.

The letter he left me sits in my bedside drawer. I haven’t been able to read it because I can’t stomach anything he has to say to me, but as the minutes tick by and another uncomfortable sensation worms through my gut, I can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s like the words are calling out to me from the paper.

Eventually, I give in.

The letter rests heavily against my fingertips with Erik’s writing scrawled over the envelope, weaving around my name. It’s a request for me to open it and read it before I do anything else.

Will this explain why Viktor hasn’t come for me yet?

Or is there a threat in these words that will warn me that my time is already up?

Drawing my legs up under the covers, I slowly peel back the envelope and open the letter.

Anastasia,

If you’ve made it this far then I’m praying you will read a little further. I understand that you hate me right now, and you’re well within your right to do that. I want to explain myself, hoping you will understand.

I’m sorry.

I’ve broken your trust, and I will never forgive myself for that.

When I was first placed in your employ, I knew nothing. Viktor has been like a father to me so I thought nothing of his orders. When he asked me to keep an eye on you, I thought I understood why. I saw my father grieving deeply and I wanted to help him, so yes, I accepted and yes, I spied on you.

It was the biggest mistake of my life.

The months we’ve spent together have been amazing and I’ve fallen for you. Where I first saw an ice princess, I now see who you truly are. A kind, warm, generous person with so much love to give, dedicating your life to helping those hurt by your father and bringing this entire family on a new business venture to keep the blood from our hands is beyond anything anyone else has done.

And I admire you for it.

You’re the best person I know. And I’ve hurt you.

I thought I was doing what was right. I wanted to help Viktor, to guide him to the truth because in my eyes, there was no way it could be you. Looking back, maybe it was terrible of me, but I also don’t regret it.

Because if I hadn’t followed his orders, I never would have gotten to know what an incredible woman you are.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t want to see you hurt, but I also want to help Viktor. There’s no easy path here, and I think I deserve that after hurting you so deeply.

And the baby? I can’t imagine how scary this is for you, but I want you to know that if you had told me, I would have stood by you. I would do anything for my baby. I will.

I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope you can understand that my actions were never malicious. I care about you, Anastasia, and I’m so sorry.

If you ever need me for anything, day or night, just call me on this number.

I’ll always be here for the both of you.

Erik

My tears blotch down onto the paper and it partly crumples under my shaking grasp.

How can he write such things? A storm of emotions clashes in my chest, raging between anger and hurt and an aching loss that he’s not here.

I miss him.

I shouldn’t because he betrayed me.

But I do. I want him next to me, telling me everything will be alright. That he’ll protect me and keep me safe.

Even though I know I won’t trust those words. I’ll just be waiting for him to hurt me again, unable to trust the truth in his actions.

Then again, Viktor hasn’t kicked down my door. Does that mean Erik hasn’t told him the truth? Or is he just waiting for the right moment?

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest and I close my eyes, letting the tears fall.

I cared for him so much. Too much.

And it hurts.

Fuck, it hurts.

A sob tears its way out of me and I cover my mouth with my hand, opening my eyes and staring at his written words until they blur beyond recognition.

I want him to mean it. I want to believe that he was just placed in a terrible position and did what he thought was right, but that doesn’t change how much it hurts.

Yet, the temptation is too great.

In the low light, with tears streaming down my face and a sense of aching loss in my chest, I reach for my phone and dial the number scrawled at the bottom of the letter.