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“Yes. I’d like to add that you’re an asshole and just because you can get access to something doesn’t mean you should. You want to know what’s in my account? I can tell you.” She rattled off a pitifully small number. “You know how I know? Because I had to pay rent yesterday, and I woke up this morning having to make the decision if I could afford to buy a new mixer for the bakery before mine dies. News flash.” She waved her hands back and forth in a version of jazz hands. “I don’t.”

A knock sounded on the door before any of us could recover. I opened it and took the robe my man had draped over his arm. Thick cream cashmere on the outside, silk-lined on the inside, and long enough to reach the floor, the robe was absurdly expensive and something designed to be worn between a bedroom and a shower.

Kirill snorted. “Subtle.”

“Not in my vocabulary.” I spared him a look while crossing the room.

Anika muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like rich psychopaths.

She wasn’t entirely wrong, but the fact that she stiffened when I approached her changed the heat in my veins back to ice. I didn’t know I could still feel guilt, but there it was, teasing me with a sudden desire to scoop her up and promise it would all be okay.

Not yet. Not until we had verified her information. I held the robe out in lieu of an apology. “Kirill.”

She was most comfortable with him, which I also hated but chose to use to my advantage.

Kirill came forward and released the restraints, stepping back before she could make good on her earlier promise involving his testicles.

She rubbed the angry marks circling her wrists.

I shook out the robe. “Put it on.”

“You could say please.” She glared at me with enough venom to kill, and I smiled in response. When I refused to be baited or acquiesce to her mutterings, she stood and shrugged out of Kirill’s jacket. He caught it before it hit the floor, and I slid the robe over her shoulders. It swallowed her whole, the hem pooling around her feet and the sleeves hanging past her fingertips. I’d have to throw it away later. No way it could be cleaned of the filth from this floor. Filth we’d subjected her to.

Kirill frowned. “Mine fit better.”

Anika pulled the robe tight and cinched the belt. “Should I leave the room while you two lay out your cocks and measure?”

“Oh please, darling. You’ve already seen them.” Kirill winked at her. “You know I’m bigger.”

She made a gagging motion by sticking her finger down her throat, and all three of us went semi-hard.

“Don’t tease.” Kirill let her see the outline of his cock when he swung his jacket around his shoulders.

I’d thought she couldn't get any paler, but she proved me wrong. A heartbeat later, red infused her cheeks. “You’re such an ass.”

“I am. But your ass is better.” Kirill, being Kirill, never knew when to stop once things started, so I stepped between them.

“The interrogation is over for tonight.” I held out a hand toward Anika, knowing she would refuse it but trying to indicate we meant no harm. Not anymore.

She eyed my hand, her brows raised. “Meaning?”

“Meaning you’ll be given a room until we’ve verified your statement. Or proven it false.” In which case, she had to die. Didn’t care much for that, but we couldn’t allow the thief to live. “Until we know who stole from us, you will remain here, but you’ll no longer be treated as a prisoner.” It was the best I could do at the moment.

We left the interrogation room together, Roman slightly ahead while Kirill walked on Anika’s other side. She moved slowly, one hand holding the robe even though it was tied, her hand close to her throat in a gesture that probably soothed her. We reached the second-floor corridor, and I opened the door to one of the larger suites.

Anika gaped, stopping at the threshold. “This is bigger than my whole apartment.”

Roman’s phone rang, and he glanced at the screen before answering. “Yes.” He stopped walking, his gaze sliding from Anika to me. He hung up the phone and drew in a pained breath. “Helen Mercer is concerned. One of the neighbors told her someone’s been asking questions about Anika’s little girl.”

7

ROMAN

Anika went so white I reached out a hand to steady her before thinking better of it. She glared at me, then tried to swipe my phone from my hand. “Who? Who was asking about Nora?”

“We don’t know yet.” I lifted the phone out of reach, which wasn’t too difficult considering our height difference, but it made me feel three kinds of foolish as she danced around.

“Call them back and ask.” She jumped. “Or let me.”