Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (34)

“What makes you say that?” Bree asks.

“I lied to him about my name. Why shouldn’t he have lied to me about his?”

“Oh, come on, Cami, that’s ridiculous and you know it. You lied to protect yourself, your identity, and your daughter. He lied to trick you into falling in love with him. The two things are not comparable.”

When she gets her stern mom voice on, it’s hard to disagree.

“Maybe so,” I whisper. “So why do I feel like I’m in the right company?”

“Because you’ve always been too hard on yourself. Always.”

I take a deep breath. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Does he know you’re talking to me?” Bree asks.

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure he’s not, like, tapping the line or listening in or anything?”

“He told me I’d have total privacy.”

“Ah, I forgot: you trust him.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I amend. “I believed him on this one thing. That doesn’t mean I trust him.”

“Good. So you’re sure you don’t want me to contact anyone? Not even Eric?”

“No. If you tell him, then he’s going to press for more details about where I am. He’ll be obligated to get the department involved, too. I don’t want him getting hurt looking for me. He’s close to retirement, and he deserves a peaceful one.”

“He’s worried about you, Cami. We all are.”

“Let him worry,” I say. “It’s enough to know he’s safe.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Yes. For now. Let me just see how this plays out.”

Bree gnaws at her lip. “Okay. If you’re sure.” She hesitates, then adds, “Cam, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you think he’ll be involved in Jo’s life one day?”

That’s a loaded question. “At this moment, I honestly don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Along with everything else.”

“And what about Alex?”

“Maxim,” I correct automatically, even though I still think of him as Alex in my head. “I’m not sure I’ll quite believe it until I see him in the flesh, speak to him face to face.”

“You should. You’ll need proof. Not to mention closure.”

I frown. “You don’t think Isaak would lie, do you?”

“About Alex being Maxim?” Bree scoffs. “He is a criminal mastermind. Bratva Don and all. I think he’s capable of anything. It’d be stupid to assume otherwise.”

I suppress the shiver running down my spine for Bree’s sake. “Is Jo back yet?”

“I’m sorry, hon. She’s still at her play date. If I’d known you were gonna call, I would have rescheduled.”

“No, no,” I say quickly. “I don’t want you rearranging her life around me. I want her to have fun. To be a kid. This is exactly why I left her with you.”

“See?” Bree says with a sad smile. “Best mother in the world.”

“Debatable,” I sigh. “Highly debatable. But thanks for saying it anyway. I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, one more question before you do: are you still as attracted to him now as you were back then?”

I gulp involuntarily. Leave it to a big sister to ask the hard-hitting questions.

“And keep in mind, I know when you lie, Camila Marie.”

Uh-oh. Stern mom voice plus my first and middle name. She means business.

“Yes,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Maybe more, honestly.”

“Fucking hell.”

“I’m glad my life is turning you into the foul-mouthed sailor you’ve always been deep down inside.”

“Just how attractive is this man?”

Her eyes flit away and I hear the clacking of a keyboard. “Wait, are you googling him right now?”

“Of course. Hmm… lots of Isaaks, but none of them seem to be the right ones. Unless he’s a forensic accountant in his spare time.”

“Definitely not.” The thought of Isaak Vorobev in a cubicle is laughable, to say the least. “I don’t think he’s looking for notoriety on a public scale.”

“Do you have a picture of him lying around?”

“Why on earth would I have a picture of him lying around?”

Bree blushes. “Sorry, I went fifteen-year-old girl there for a second. I guess it doesn’t matter what he looks like. Just as long as you’re safe.”

“‘Safe’ is a strong word. According to Isaak, I’m safer here with him. I’m sure Eric would disagree, as would Maxim.”

“And according to you?”

I hesitate, then nod reluctantly. “I think here is safe.”

Bree nods. “Okay. You’ll call again?”

“As often as I can,” I tell her. “But don’t worry if you don’t hear from me, okay?”

“Um, not sure I can do that, but I’ll try,” she says, pursing her lips up. “At least you’re suffering in style.”

I glance around at the royal-caliber study I’m sitting in. “No kidding. This place is unreal. Small blessings, I guess.”