Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“It can’t be,” I whisper, shaking my head. “That… how?”
He pushes his phone in his back pocket and shakes his head. “I have no idea, but we have questions that need answers. As soon as I saw her picture, I came to find you. There’s no question your wife will be mistaken for the Romanov princess. The question is, who will come first?” He pauses, the weight behind his gaze pinning me in place. “Soloto or the Romanovs?”
Jesus.
“Get her to safety, brother. Lock them all down. And find the answers that you need.”
My voice is low and guarded. “I will. Who else knows this?”
He glances around the room. “There’s no telling. If I were you, I would flee. You have people in Naples and Cape Town. Take your pick.”
I shake my head. “I don’t run, Popov, you know that. I never have and never will.”
He blows out a breath with a grimace. “I know it all too well. I was afraid you’d say that.” With a nod, he stands taller. “Which is why, in that case, I’ll offer you the strength of my brotherhood to aid you. Say the word, and I’ll help.”
Help from the Popovs will come at a cost—that much is true. But right now, to keep my bride safe, there’s no price too high to pay. It’s in his best interest to keep on my good side, and he knows, as well as any other leader of this city, that alliances in the underworld are more valuable than any riches.
I nod. “Thank you.”
He stands up straighter. “Retreat. Secure your family. And find answers, brother. My men will lead yours blindfolded. No one, not even you, will be able to see the location of our refuge.” He jerks his head to the table. “If I were you, brother, I’d skip that cake.”
I have to take a leap of faith. I know I could be leading my family into greater danger, but my gut instinct says I have to trust him. The weight of responsibility feels crushing, when I look over at Anissa and see her blue, blue eyes focused on mine. She smiles and nods, a silent vote of confidence.
I know what I have to do.
Chapter 22
“ANISSA”
When Rafail returns, he looks as if he’s encountered a ghost. I’ve never seen him so pale, even as his eyes are blazing and his thunderous voice booms across the restaurant.
“We’re in danger. More danger than you realize,” he says, his gaze flicking to mine with warning. “I can’t explain—not yet. You’ll have to trust me. I want all of you—every last one of you to go where I tell you.”
Grandfather is the first to get to his feet, his hand gripping his cane, serious eyes on Rafail. Uncle Eduard stares at him, but when he opens his mouth to ask questions, Rafail shakes his head. “Not now. You and your wife are free to do what you please, but since your sons have vowed themselves to me, they’ll go where I tell them.”
Gleb and Matvei follow wordlessly. It is a seamless execution, as no one questions Rafail’s instructions. Semyon, his cold, calculating eyes laser-focused on making sure we evacuate promptly, is shoulder to shoulder with Rodion, who looks as if he’s ready to toss a hand grenade or launch himself headfirst into an oncoming cavalcade.
Rafail doesn’t leave my side. Zoya, however, has gone white as a sheet.
“Where are we going, Raf?” she asks, her wide eyes troubled. She grips the back of the chair as though it’s grounding her in place. It isn’t the first time she’s faced fear like this, I know.
It isn’t the first time I have.
But when Rafail leans close to her, he drapes his arm around her and holds her. “You have to trust me, Zoya. I won’t let anyone hurt you—not ever. As long as I’m here, I’ll make sure you’re safe.” He pushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear, gentling his voice while the rest leave quickly, wordlessly. He’s taken a moment in the midst of chaos to soothe his sister’s fears. God, I love him for that. “Can you do that for me?”
She nods. “Of course I can, yes,” she says.
I reach for her hand. “Stay with me. You’ll be alright, sweetheart. I have it on good authority your brother bought me a new pressie, and for some reason, I have a feeling I’m an excellent shot.”
She smiles at me, even as her lower lip trembles. Rafail pays the waitstaff with a flourish of bills, then leads the evacuation. At the exit, a team of sleek, gunmetal gray cars purr at the curb, uniformed men waiting for us. Zoya and I look to Rafail at the same time.
“Go,” he says quietly. “Trust me.”
If I have to trust him, then why doesn’t he meet my eyes?