Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (42)

“So you isolated yourself?”

“I had to. The moment I got close to anyone, I felt like the only way the friendship could progress is by telling them the truth. And I couldn’t do that. My dating life was the same way. There were a lot of guys who asked me out, but I turned them all down. Eventually, I just became the loner girl with no one to turn to.”

“So what was different with him?”

“He refused to take no for an answer,” I admit. “He was persistent. Adamant. I thought it was charming then. Now, I know the real reason why.”

“He should never have involved you in this,” Isaak smolders. “I will make sure he pays for it.”

“By doing what?” I ask sharply. “I know enough about your lifestyle to know what you mean by that. But if you’re going to hurt anyone, please don’t use me as the reason.”

“Some people deserve to be punished.”

I sigh and shake my head. “Alex had the same kind of ego,” I say. “He thought he got to mete out right and wrong. I never understood it.”

“The Bratva is a totally different world, Camila. A totally different reality.”

“I get that. I just don’t want any part of it.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

Footsteps clomp over the bridge to our secluded patio. “Can I offer either of you a mug of hot chocolate?” asks one of the waiters, brandishing a silver tray.

“None for me,” Isaak scowls. “Bring me a whiskey neat.”

“Too feminine for you?” I jab at him. “I’ll take some, please. Thank you very much.”

The server pours me a mug of steaming chocolatey goodness. I take a deep breath of the fumes. My sweet tooth has always been my downfall, my Achilles heel. And true to form, the first sip leaves me moaning.

“Good?” Isaak asks with a chuckle on the edge of his voice.

“Orgasmic. That’s just liquid chocolate.”

Isaak smiles.

I change my answer—that smile might just be my true Achilles heel. Which is why I look away immediately so that I don’t get drawn in.

Sweets are an addiction.

Isaak is an obsession.

“What was the plan?” Isaak asks, picking up the thread of the conversation where we left off. “After you got married.”

I stall for time by taking another sip of my hot chocolate. “The plan was to move back to the United States.”

“Of course he’d have wanted that.”

“It wasn’t his suggestion,” I reply. “It was mine. I was determined to go back home.”

“To reunite with your beloved sister and nephews?” he asks.

Goosebumps pepper my skin. Here it is—the moment I was dreading.

I know that to avoid mentioning Jo now would make things obvious later if and when she does come to light. There’s no way I trust the man enough to share Jo’s existence with him. God only knows what Isaak would do with that information.

But maybe I can protect her by telling him about her now. I can hide her in plain sight.

“And my niece,” I say, feeling like I’m betraying Jo.

“You have a niece, too?”

I nod. “She’s a beauty.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“I’ve missed so much of their lives. I don’t want to miss anymore. And Alex—”

“Maxim.”

“Maxim,” I amend. “He swore was powerful enough that he could protect me from the threat of the Bratva. I know—ironic, isn’t it?”

“Life usually is.”

“I was on the verge of leaving the program altogether, you know,” I inform Isaak. “The department was going to release me back into the wild, so to speak.”

“I see,” Isaak says slowly. His tone is telling, but I can’t pinpoint why.

“You don’t know my reasons for making certain choices, so don’t bother trying to figure them out,” I snap.

He raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t say a word.”

“But I can see you thinking.”

“You’re going to hold my thoughts against me?”

“If I have to.”

He chuckles. At that sound, I feel excitement snake down my body before concentrating between my legs. The fact that my physical attraction to him is so strong even after all these years is troubling. Not to mention terrifying.

Nothing about the two of us is simple.

We share a daughter and he has no clue about her.

He married me against my will and he’s keeping me hostage.

His cousin is my ex-fiancé and there’s a whole family feud brimming just under the surface.

It’s all so complicated that I get a headache just thinking about it.

And it’s nowhere close to finished.

“Are you going to tell me how this thing started between you and Al… er, Maxim?” I ask.

“It started long before we were born,” Isaak explains. “With our fathers. Exceptions have been made, but generally speaking, the mantle of Krestnyy Otets passes down from the oldest son to the oldest son.”

“No wonder you think of yourself as a king.”

He smirks. “My father, Vitaly, was the youngest son and my uncle Yakov was the older one. So Yakov took over when my grandfather died.”