Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (65)

Goulash. It’s the code word we agreed on six years ago when I’d first entered the program. A way for me to let her know someone was listening in without actually saying the words out loud.

I’d used it a few times after Andrew replaced Eric as my case handler. I just didn’t like or trust him—and I definitely didn’t want him knowing about my daughter.

That was a secret I had only entrusted Eric to keep.

“Goulash,” Bree repeats.

Her tone downshifts. I have to try really hard not to wince. I’d hoped she’d react to the red flag a little better, a little more naturally. There’s no way Isaak will have missed that. His face gives nothing away, though.

“Please,” Bree adds, trying to recover. “I wouldn’t make it again this week. The kids will get sick of it.”

“Not to mention your husband.”

“He can’t afford to complain.”

It’s not exactly seamless. But maybe it was enough.

I glance towards him. His eyes are trained on me.

Maybe not.

“Anyway, goulash aside, how are things, sis?” I ask.

“Great,” Bree replies. “How are you? I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

That’s her way of saying she’s worried for me. I need to reassure her before she presses the panic button. Which, in this case, would be Eric.

“You worry too much about me,” I tell her. “I’m fine. More than fine, actually.”

“Sure about that?”

“Very sure. I found a new library.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s amazing, Bree. Like the one from Beauty and the Beast. I could hardly believe my eyes.”

“Aw, that reminds me: the kids watched it yesterday. Jo picked it out.”

I inhale and exhale slowly to calm my nerves that prickled up when Bree mentions my daughter’s name. “Did they like it?”

“The boys were definitely interested, but Jo fell in love.”

I smile. “I’ll bet. I love that movie, too.”

“She hated the part where the Beast turned back into a man.”

I burst out laughing. “I don’t blame her.”

“It was a great day,” Bree continues. “We went to the park in the evening. The kids had a ball on the swings.”

Silence edges into the conversation. I wriggle uncomfortably in place, wondering if I’m ruining everything by agreeing to do this in front of Isaak. This has to sound like a normal, boring conversation between two sisters. Does it?

I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.

“How’s the, uh, the hubby?” I stammer.

“Jake’s started playing golf,” Bree tells me. I can hear the annoyance in her voice.

I smirk. “What a cliché.”

“Right? I’d be more annoyed, but I don’t think it’ll last.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t think he’s very good.”

We laugh about that for a little. It eases some of the tension in my chest. Bree starts telling me more about Jake’s misadventures at the driving range when suddenly, I hear the pitter-patter of little girl footsteps on her end of the line.

Jo.

My heart leaps into my throat. She calls me Mommy when we talk. If she gets on the phone, it’ll be over. It’ll all come to light, the one secret I’ve worked so hard to keep hidden.

God only knows what’ll happen after that.

“Bree,” I say hurriedly, “say hi to the kids for me. Tell them I love them.”

But I’m too late. “Aunty Bree, who’s that?”

Jo’s voice, loud and clear.

Fuck.

“Watch out for my origami,” Bree warns my daughter, trying to deflect the question. “And no running in the house. Kids, will you go out and play please? I have some vacuuming to do in here.”

“Sounds chaotic in there,” I laugh nervously.

“Like a hurricane and an earthquake hit at the same time,” Bree sighs. “The kids are having their cousins over for a play date.”

I bite back my grin. Quick thinking on her part to explain away the “Aunty Bree” slip-up.

“No worries, I understand. I have to go anyway.”

“Call me again soon, okay? I really want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine. You worry too much.”

“I’m your sister. It’s my job.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Bree hangs up before I do. My heartbeat is still racing. I close my eyes and breathe until it’s receded before glancing at Isaak.

“Happy?” I ask, trying to muster up the right amount of indignation. “Juicy conversation, wasn’t it?”

“You don’t have another sibling, do you?” Isaak asks instead of answering my question.

I have to try super hard not to clam up and panic. “Uh, no. Just Bree.” But since I know where he’s going, I keep talking. “Her husband Jake has an older brother, though. He and his wife have a couple of kids.”

All lies. Jake’s an only child. The smallest amount of digging will reveal that, but I’m hoping Isaak will think this is too unimportant to look into. I can’t imagine him looking into Jake’s background.