Page 47

Without Kieran’s help, I’m a sitting duck. I’ve never needed anybody, least of all him and his dickwad crew. I’ll bet Papa Cormac had a thing or two to say about us.

He’s probably the one holding things back. That motherfucker has always been the most vocal about his hatred for us.

There’s a chance my dear uncle still wants to cast blame on my father for my mother’s death even knowing about Moretti’s involvement. I can imagine him trying to find any excuse for us to remain enemies. He never wanted to be allies in the first place and was forced into it by my grandfather.

If Kieran doesn’t agree to work with us, it will set me back. If that happens, things may not work as I need them to with Corrado. We’ll track him as much as we can, but there will come a point when he slips through the net.

Kieran has access to the blind spot no one else can reach. For now, we have the elements of secrecy and time. But time waits for no man. Eventually, all things will come to light. For everyone.

The patter of light footsteps pulls my attention back into the room. My wife enters the dining room with a cautious expression on her pretty face and a sweet shade of red tainting her cheeks.

Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, showing off her high exotic cheekbones, and a little summer dress hangs from her body. It’s simple, but I’m not sure I want her walking around the house like that. It shows off too much of her legs and the perfect round curves of her tits.

My guards know they’re dead if they try anything with her, but I don’t even want them to look at her.

I watch her carefully. What’s running through that pretty little head of hers today?

“Morning,” I speak first, looking her up and down from head to toe.

“Morning.”

“Sit.” I gesture to the chair opposite me.

She glances at the chair with the same careful expression, then moves after a few seconds. The scent that drove me wild all night fills my nose when she gets close, and it’s all I can do not to pull her into my lap so I can inhale her.

The red in her cheeks deepens when she sits.

Yes, malyshka, I’m aware of how close we are, too.

Zoya enters the room, carrying a tray of pastries. She sets the tray down in between Gabrielle and me, then addresses my wife in her usual courteous manner. “Can I get you some coffee, Mrs. Karsavin?”

At first, Gabrielle stares blankly, not quite realizing Zoya is talking to her. Then she does and catches herself. “Yes, please. And please call me Gabrielle.”

Zoya looks at me, waiting for confirmation. I nod.

“Of course, Gabrielle.” Zoya dips her head. “I’ll be back with a fresh pot. What would you like to eat?”

“Just some toast, thank you.”

Zoya nods again and makes her way back to the kitchen.

Gabrielle looks at me and sets her shoulders back. She does that when she’s gearing up to talk to me. “Zoya said you had a few things you wanted to discuss. I have a few things I want to discuss, too.”

That goddamn mouth of hers. Here we go. Thankfully, the caffeine has kicked in. “You go first then, printsessa.”

“I need a phone. I need to call my mother. I need to see her.”

I’m not surprised by the request. Her mother is part of what I wanted to discuss. “You will get a new phone later today.”

“I already have a phone, back at my parents’ house.”

“That is your old phone. You will get a new one later.”

She frowns, brows wrinkling with annoyance, her mouth a perfect grimace, but she still manages to look pretty. “Will you be tracking it and listening in on my calls?”

Clever girl. I won’t bullshit her with lies. “Of course, I will.”

She shakes her head at me. “So, I’ll have no privacy.”