Page 9

"I'm not reaching for a weapon."

"Shut up," she hisses as her cheeks flush pink and she relaxes a notch.

I pull out the envelope and slide it across the table toward her, but she just stares at it like it's going to open itself. God, this is painful. If it's going to be this difficult every time we talk, I'm not sure there's a point in working with her. I might slog through this faster on my own.

"Open it," I tell her, nodding at it.

"Why?"

"Because it concerns you. It's the reason I contacted you, and it's the reason you're gonna help me stop this wedding."

Alana carefully folds back the prongs to open the flap of the envelope, but her eyes stay locked on my face, waiting for some reaction from me. When she pulls out the photographs, I watch the color drain from her face. Her throat works as she swallows and drops the pictures like they're on fire and she's been burned. Then her eyes flick back up to my face.

"Where'd you get these?" she hisses, lowering her voice as she looks around. I sit back and watch as she quickly shoves them back into the envelope with trembling fingers and a pale face.

"Someone left 'em in my locker. Someone who wants the truth exposed as much as we do."

"We don't want the same thing." Alana shoves the folder back at me, but I pin it to the table with a finger and scowl at her.

"I want to expose the truth." I lean forward, keeping my voice quiet. I realize this is probably a delicate conversation for her. Sure, it's been five years, but trauma doesn't have an expiration date. "I wanna stand up at that wedding and tell everyone that my brother was a rapist and that my father covered it up. You think I actually want my family connected to yours in any meaningful way?"

The last thing I should do is speak negatively about her family. Insulting her won't make her want to work with me. But there's nothing wrong with being factual. There's been enough bloodshed on both sides of this thing to know a Sokolov-Volskaya union is a bad idea.

"Put them away," she hisses, like she can't bear to look at them anymore. "And then what? You think your father'll let you live after that? You think mine'll thank you for humiliating him in front of the council?"

"I think I'll be able to sleep at night." She has a point, though. If I go through with this to save my family name, it may all be for naught. It's a stark revelation that strikes me as odd—that my enemy's daughter has pointed out something that's evaded me this far. I'm fighting to preserve something I might never get to enjoy.

But that doesn’t mean I should back away quietly. My father should still be forced to make an account.

"You're insane. Or stupid. Or both." Her head turns and she watches the waitress walk up with a tray and a single small glass of sake. She sets it in front of us, but Alana doesn't move to pick it up, even as the waitress hovers and looks her over.

"Anything else?" she asks, smacking her gum, and I wave her off. The kitchen behind the counter clangs with pots and the shouted Japanese of the cooks. Steam rises from the broth vats and fogs the air, and the waitress glowers and sulks off in that direction.

When she's gone, I lean forward again and splay my hands on the table between us. "So, can you help me or not?"

Alana rolls her eyes and folds her arms under her chest, making her tits push out. I don’t want to check her out, but I find myself unable to keep from noticing as she breathes in and says, "What do you want from me?"

Prying my eyes away, I manage, "I want you to investigate your family's side. Find out what your father's hiding. Obviously, Ivan was a cunt and he got what he deserved." It pains me to say it, but he shouldn’t have done what he did. "But there is a reason they never went to the council with this, right? We have to find out why."

"And you'll do what?" One eyebrow rises as she lifts the sake to her lips and downs it in one smooth pull. Impressive, right down to the way she sets the glass back on the table and licks the last drop from her cherry-colored lip.

I swallow and force my eyes to meet hers. "I'll dig into mine. My father is a prideful man. I'm assuming the only reason he kept this hush-hush was to keep his stupid reputation." Sometimes, it makes me want to do something horribly embarrassing just to stick it to him. Maybe this witch hunt is more about my punishing him than setting things right.

Alana huffs a sigh and stretches her hand out onto the table, twisting the sake glass as she eyes my mug of untouched tea. "You know if my father learns I'm working with you to stop this wedding, he'll sell me to some fucking pig farmer in Perm.”

Of course Nikolai is eager to get this deal underway. Partial Sokolov territory and twenty-five million dollars US is a huge dowry, but it's hush money. I know it. My father doesn't want my brother's secrets getting out there any more than he wants to cough up the boundaries the council has set in place for him. But if he has to do one or the other, it's no choice for him. He'll pay up to keep things quiet.

"I won't let them do that to you." I have no idea where the urge to promise that comes from, but she's been through enough. Her own father should be protecting her, not punishing her for wanting justice.

"Funny how you think you'll get a choice." She scoffs and sucks in a deep breath like she's trying to loosen her chest. It's a big choice for her to make, to trust the family that covered up her pain.

I understand her reluctance and I want to make this easy on both of us. "This alliance is temporary. It lasts just until we find out who's pulling the strings and why. We cut off the wedding plans and we're done."

Alana studies my face for a long moment, searching for deception. Whatever she finds must satisfy her because she nods and says, "Fine, but we have to figure out a better way. I can't get caught sneaking out to meet you."

"Agreed."

She slides out of the booth and pulls her coat back on. "I'll contact you when I've got something," she says, tucking her purse under her arm as I slide the envelope back into my pocket. Her eyes track it, and shame makes her dip her head.