Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (97)

There’s a second of silence that confirms my suspicion.

“We’ll get to that in a second,” Bogdan says. “How’s the honeymoon going?”

I frown. “It’s not a honeymoon.”

“Where’s the new bride?”

I roll my eyes. “In the library. She’s been there all morning.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I mean, she’s choosing to spend all her time with a bunch of stodgy books rather than you. I think you need to up your game.”

“Bogdan, stop deflecting.”

He sighs. “Why can’t we just ever have a conversation? You know, brother to brother.”

“We can do that after we talk business.”

Even as I say it, I remind myself of Father. He was never interested in any conversation that didn’t have to do with the Vorobev Bratva.

The Bratva was his life. He made sure I felt the same.

I never had another choice. My path was decided for me from the minute I left the nursery and entering the training room that Otets built especially for me.

It’s strange to feel two opposing emotions at the same time. I resent my father, but I still respect the don he was. I despise his hypocrisy, but I still hold to the values of loyalty he instilled in me.

I hate the man who made me.

And yet I love him for it.

“Fine,” Bogdan says. “We may have a tiny issue.”

“Go on.”

“I don’t think this is going to be a huge problem or anything, but… you should know that the cops are searching for Camila. There’s a search in place.”

It’s not as bad as I’m imagining, but it’s not exactly welcome news, either. Now, not only do I have Maxim to look out for; I have to worry about the cops, too.

“Interpol has been informed,” he adds with a wince.

“Interpol?” I repeat. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“The man pushing for the search is Eric Keller. I think he’s Camila’s agent.”

“Former agent,” I tell him, echoing her words.

“Hm. So why’s he pushing so hard?”

I pace down a cavernous hallway. “Because the two of them are close. He had her back through the first couple of years in the Witness Protection Program.”

“He might be more trouble than we need.”

I know what he’s implying. I also know that Camila will never forgive me if anything were to happen to Eric. “Leave him be for now. This might just blow over.”

“I doubt it, sobrat. The British cops have been informed as well. They’re keeping the search on the down low for the moment. But there’s talk they might take it public if they don’t get any new leads in the next few weeks.”

“They won’t take it public,” I say confidently. “It’ll become a circus. Not to mention that it’ll be like a beacon to anyone with designs on Camila.”

“We have an informant on the inside,” Bogdan points out.

“I’m starting to wonder if Maxim does, too.”

Bogdan is quiet for a moment. “You think that’s possible?”

“I’ve been thinking about the timing of certain things. Not to mention how Maxim found Camila in the first place. It stands to reason that he might have had someone on the inside too. Someone close to her.”

“Wait, is there someone you have in mind?”

I nod grimly. “Eric.”

“Fuuuck,” Bogdan breathes. “Goddammit. You might be right. That’s too convenient.”

“Their relationship is unconventional,” I say with a shrug. “But I have no proof. Nothing more than a hunch.”

“If he’s one of Maxim’s, we’ll have no choice but to take him out.”

“I know,” I reply. “But for now, Eric Keller is not going to be touched. I’ll deal with him when I have to.”

I’m about to ask Bogdan for any new intel on Maxim and his movements, when I hear a noise at my back. I turn around and see Camila standing at the threshold of my bedroom.

She’s got three books in her arms, but her eyes are wide and suddenly panicked.

Fuck.

She overheard something. The question is… how much?

“Bogdan,” I say, without taking my eyes off Camila. “I have to go.”

“Gotcha. I’ll call with another report in the night.”

I hang up and turn to Camila, who seems rooted to the spot. She can only stare at me, her eyes sparking erratically, as though she’s not sure whether to be disappointed or angry.

“What was that call about?” she asks. The fear’s obvious on the edge of her tone.

“Just business.”

“Business that involves me apparently,” she accuses. “And Eric.”

God. Fucking. Dammit.

“There was more to the conversation than what you just heard,” I say, taking a step towards her.

She flinches out of her frozen state and drops her books down on the closest surface she can find. When I move closer to her, she springs away.

“Really? Because it sounded like you were ready to call a hit on Eric,” she says.

I curse my own carelessness. I should have had this conversation with Bogdan in one of the private studies with the door locked. “That wasn’t it.”