Page 18 of Twisted Pact

“It was nothing. A mistake that won’t happen again.”

“That’s unfortunate.” He opens a drawer and pulls out a stack of papers. “Because I’ve received three threats in the past week warning us against playing nice with the Kozlovs. Someone wants to make it very clear they’re prepared to act if we strengthen ties with Dmitri’s family. We can’t afford to refuse an alliance with them, so it would be nice if we had their firepower behind us.”

“That has nothing to do with me and Alexei.”

“You getting involved with him solves several problems.” He slides the papers across the desk.

I scan the documents. He’s not lying. Dates and times of suspicious activity around our property. Photographs of Papa leaving the house. A whole file documenting the fact that someone has been watching us.

“This is serious,” I say.

“Very serious. Which is why your little garden encounter might be good news.” He retrieves the papers and locks them back in the drawer. “If you and Alexei develop a genuine relationship, it gives us protection. No one would risk attacking the girlfriend of a Kozlov heir.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.”

“But you could be.”

“I told you I wanted to finish school.”

“And I’m telling you that without the right alliances, you won’t live long enough to finish your doctorate. Someone is targeting this family, Mila. We need the Kozlov connection, and fate has given us a second chance.”

“You want me to date Alexei to secure a business alliance.”

“I want you to survive. If that means getting close to a man you’re already attracted to, I don’t see the problem.”

I stand, ready to leave, and he mirrors the movement.

“Think about it, Mila. You’re already involved with him. You crossed lines you can’t uncross. Might as well make it mean something.”

He dismisses me with a wave, and I leave his study before I say something I’ll regret.

Back in my room, I stare at my phone. No messages from Alexei. No acknowledgement of last night. Just silence.

It’s louder than anything he could’ve said.

Papa’s right about one thing. I can’t uncross the lines I crossed last night.

But I can damn well pretend they don’t exist.

6

Alexei

Dmitri holds up a photograph, and my brain begins making a list of people who won’t wake up tomorrow.

“When did these arrive?” I ask, eyes trained on the shot of me and Mila in the garden a week ago.

“This morning. Leonid received them first. Forwarded them with a polite note: ‘Any security issues I should know about?’”

Dmitri drops the photo on his desk. “So… do we?”

“Not that I know of.” I pick the photo back up. The angles from the trees past the garden wall. Crisp even in the dark. Professional work.

“Someone knew where to aim.”

“Or they were watching you.”

“Why would anyone watch me?”