Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(121)



PAIGE

Something is wrong.

Misha won’t look at me, but his body is tense. He’s ready for a fight, and I keep looking around for the enemy but finding nothing.

He walks over to the window and wrenches the curtains closed as though he’s paranoid someone might be watching.

“Misha, what’s going on?”

“I must compliment you,” he says flatly. It’s a tone that reminds me of the old days. When we first reunited, and he behaved like an emotionless robot.

Except this time, it’s worse. His tone is still detached and impersonal, but it’s also filled with a burning rage.

“Compliment me on what?”

“On your performance,” he says. “It was fucking brilliant. It takes a lot to fool me, and you managed it flawlessly. So congratulations.”

My heart sinks. I cling tighter to my pendant. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you would say that.”

It feels like the man who left this room five minutes ago has been replaced by someone else. I barely recognize him.

Before I can ask him to explain himself, the door opens. Dr. Mathers walks in, looking about as puzzled as I feel. “The nurse said I needed to come down immediately. They said it was an emergency?”

She’s glancing from me to Misha and back again, looking for answers I don’t have.

“It is,” Misha says. “I need you to do a paternity test for me.”

I feel like the whole damn room is spinning suddenly. I look from Misha to Dr. Mathers, wondering which one of them will break character and tell me this is all just a cruel, elaborate prank.

“A p-paternity test?” Dr. Mathers repeats.

“I’ll need the test results as fast as possible.”

“Paternity tests during pregnancy take time, Misha,” Dr. Mathers says patiently. “I’ll need at least a week to—”

“Fine,” he snaps. “The moment you have the results, let me know. Just get it done.”

“Dr. Mathers,” I interrupt. “Could you please give us a moment?”

I try to say it with as much dignity as I can muster. But is there a way to be dignified when your husband has just publicly accused you of cheating on him? Of lying to him?

The doctor gives me a sympathetic smile and slips out of the room. I redirect my attention towards Misha, who’s still not looking me in the face.

“What’s going on? Is this about Anthony? Did he say something to you?”

“He didn’t have to say a thing. Not that he would. That fucker is two parts coward and one part con artist.”

“You’re preaching to the choir; I know exactly who he is. Better than almost anyone,” I say bitterly.

Misha snorts. “I’m sure you do. Two peas in a pod and all that.”

I stop short, wondering when the ice in his eyes will melt. When I realize that’s not going to happen any time soon, I swallow my fear and continue anyway. “Whatever you think is going on, it’s not true.”

“And what do I think is going on?” he asks with his head cocked to one side. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

I hesitate for only a moment before diving headlong into what can only be a trap. “It seems like you think that these babies are not yours. That I lied about you being the father.”

“Hm. I guess we’ll find out.”

I grimace and push myself upright in bed, losing all sense of calm. “What happened out there, Misha?

We were having a fight about your possessiveness, and now, you don’t seem to want anything to do with me. Explain to me what the hell happened, because Lord knows I’m completely lost.”

“What made you apply for the job as my assistant?”

My eyebrows furrow as I try to figure out where this line of questioning is going. “I… I needed a job.

I was broke. We talked about this.”

“But why this job? Why Orion? Why me?”

“I… I found a leaflet for your company somewhere,” I stammer, still lost. “I had just been informed that I would be homeless and broke and sort-of divorced. I had no savings, no job, nowhere to go. I was desperate.”

That sounds pretty damn reasonable if you ask me, but Misha looks away in disgust. I’m still scrambling to put these jagged, confusing bits of information together into some picture that makes sense.

“You think… Anthony and I are… working together?” I ask. “You think we’re trying to con you in some way? Steal from you or something?”

“Oh, you’ve already stolen plenty,” Misha growls. “Konstantin saw the fucker run out of here today.

Even with a broken nose, he recognized him instantly. Your ‘Anthony’ is the rat bastard we’ve been trying to find for the last couple of months.”

My head really is hurting now. “Wait, slow down. I don’t—Why were you looking for him?”

“He’s our missing money man.”

I blink, waiting for the pieces of this puzzle to fit together in my head. They still won’t. “Huh? ”

“We have many civilians working for the Bratva. Men who are not involved in the actual work, but they stay on the fringes, managing what needs to be managed. Anthony was one of them.”

Nicole Fox's Books