He laughed humorlessly. “If your ego wants to believe you’re a prize, then by all means, consider yourself the prize.”
Asshole.
“You were the jewel in your father’s crown. His beloved daughter.”
And now that he’s been stripped of his kingdom, you plan on finishing the job. This was almost sicker and more twisted than the things my father had done. Would I ever stop being a pawn in someone’s game?
Was my moral compass so twisted that I used to believe that Anthony was one of the ‘good guys’? He’d never been a good guy.
Anthony had always schooled his features, so his emotions didn’t show. But underneath the calm veneer was a cold, calculating man. A man who had been biding his time, patiently waiting to carve out a piece of his own kingdom.
“And how exactly do I fit into your plans? You know how I roll, Anthony. I turned over information on my own father. Why would you want me in your life? I can’t be trusted.”
“Back then, you felt like you had nothing to lose. Nobody you wanted to protect, except yourself. But that’s changed, hasn’t it?”
Ice froze my spine. I had people in my life I loved. People who loved me. I would do anything to protect them, and Anthony had figured that out. He saw the photos on my wall. My family—
the brothers I adored and their wives, my closest friends. And Deacon.Deacon. Anthony, or someone he’d put up to the job, had seen me with him. The photos had captured the genuine smile on my face. Even a fool could see that I was in love with Deacon.
“I wouldn’t like to think that Kosta Nikolevsky is an obstacle standing in our way. What a shame if he ended up with a bullet in his head.”
Oh. My. God.
I turned my head away from him and squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to take the next breath.
“Now that you know where we stand, I trust you won’t do anything foolish, Babygirl.”
I vowed to myself that I would do whatever it took to protect Deacon, even if it meant going along with Anthony’s plan until I dug up enough information to send his ass to prison. I straightened my spine and lifted my chin. This was war, and I was going into battle. I was, after all, my father’s daughter and if he’d taught me anything, it was that you had to use every weapon in your arsenal.
Moments later, the Mercedes pulled up outside the Four Seasons and another thug in a suit ushered a man I hadn’t seen in three years into the backseat next to me. Of course, I should have figured this out sooner.
“It’s so good to see you again, my dear,” Ivan said.
“It’s so good to see you, too.” I lied with a smile on my face.
I had no idea that this was just a dress rehearsal for tonight’s performance.
Foolishly, I thought that nothing else could shock me tonight. I was so wrong. So very, very wrong.
22
Deacon
We were standing at the bar in an obscenely expensive Russian restaurant on Central Park South waiting for Petrov. Slavic folk music played from the baby grand and red-fringed ceiling lights hung from an ornate red-and-gold engraved ceiling. Paintings of the motherland decorated the walls and hookers decorated the arms of rich, old men. Two of those hookers had been hired by Dmitri for tonight’s celebration—a brunette and a blonde. He called them both ‘bitch,’ so he didn’t have to commit their names to memory. He’d just sent them off to ‘powder their noses’ whenshewalked in.
She looked so fucking beautiful I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.
Her sleeveless midnight blue dress shimmered in the soft lighting. Molded to every curve of her body, it stopped just above the knee. Sexy. Classy. Elegant. My gaze traveled down her legs to black stilettos that wrapped around her ankle and back to her face. Our eyes met across the room and hers widened in shock. Just as quickly, she recovered and locked it down, the mask slipping into place. She was good. Her face betrayed zero emotion. Her hair was pulled back, a few tendrils framing her face refusing to be corralled. I was so busy taking in every detail of her that it took me a few seconds to notice the man next to her. Mid-thirties, dark hair, a face that was hard but could be considered handsome, a dark suit that looked expensive.
This was not Petrov.
She tucked her arm in his and smiled at him. If I didn’t know better, I would think the smile was genuine. But I knew her different smiles and I saw that it was fake, the brilliant smile she used as armor. My eyes lowered to the hand holding a clutch purse. She’d readjusted her hold so I could see the fingers of her left hand.
Fuck me.
I drained the vodka in my glass and set it on the bar. All the vodka in the world wasn’t going to help me tonight.
* * *
