Chapter 23

"How much longer?" Ania asks, standing anxiously at the window.

"Not too long," I tell her as she rubs her hands together, her shoulders tight. Social events always make her nervous. Ania's never been as good as me at just blocking off the world. Or as good as I was before I found my Lia.

"All this just to change a tire," Ania huffs.

I'm glad she's facing away from me, but Lia sees the face I make. She tilts her head at me, a question in her eyes. Just looking at her is enough to get my mouth watering like a goddamn hungry animal. It's the way the blush in her cheeks matches the red of her dress, the slit of the fabric showing a tempting, thick glimpse of her thigh.

Lia gives me a look, nodding toward the hallway.

"More private conversations?" Ania says dryly as we stand up. "Anybody would think there's a secret romance going on. One or two, anyway."

"One or two?" I say. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ania turns to me, giving me a look. "Really?"

It takes me a moment, but I guess she's talking about Mikhail. I find the idea a little difficult to accept. I've seen Mila giving him looks, but nothing from my baby brother. When he left, he asked me if he should go. He's trying to be a good second.

Walking into the hallway, I ask Lia, "What do you think?"

"That you're hiding something."

"No, about what Ania said. About Mikhail and Mila."

"I don't know. Mila's hard to read. She's also… Well, she's nice. I like her, but I don't think she'd want us talking about this. She's already super stressed."

I wonder if Lia's covering for her, but is there anything to cover?

"What's taking so long?" she says after a pause. "When Ania asked you, you looked almost concerned."

"Painted quite the picture, did it?"

"Okay, cornball, but seriously…"

"The venue has had a bomb threat. Somebody got word that Nikolai Petrov would be in attendance, I guess. They called in a threat, stating Nikolai's reputation as the reason. The issue is that only people who need to are the ones who know about this arrangement."

"What are you saying?" She pauses, then says, "Wait, you think one of your men did it?"

"It was a woman," I tell her. "On the call." He lowers his voice. "Ania's nervous about going, and she's… impulsive sometimes. I can't imagine Mila's happy to see her dad."

"What if it was somebody else? Maybe one of his men got one of their girlfriends or sisters to make the call?"

Dimitri grits his teeth. "It doesn't make any difference who it was. I've got a specialist team heading there now—all ex-military. Whoever did this got what they wanted. It's going to be a while."

"Did what?" Ania says, appearing in the doorway.

I wanted to protect her, but what if it was her? I study her face closely. "Somebody called in a bomb threat to the Manor." Its full name is the Moscow Manor, but she knows what I mean.

"Oh," Ania mutters, blinking, and that's it, giving nothing else away.

"What's going on?"

Mikhail comes walking the hallway, his hands in his pockets. Mila appears a moment later. From the way they walk—Mila several steps behind, clearly on her own—it seems obvious to me Mikhail has no interest. I wouldn't be able to hide my hunger for my woman. I wouldn't be able to act as normal as he is, but he does it like it's nothing.

"Bomb threat," I say, looking at Mila, but she keeps her eyes on the floor. If they're hiding something, both are doing a good job.

"Nobody planted a bomb at the Manor," Mikhail says in disgust. "It's been vetted. Let's go."

"Easy. I'm having it swept. Anyway, arriving late isn't a bad thing."

It means Nikolai will be even more shocked. I'm not doing any half-measures. When we go in, it's for the kill.

Mikhail sighs, running a hand through his hair. He's dressed in a more hipster-style suit. Stylish, I'd guess he'd call it. It makes him look like a lazy aristocrat, though he's far from that. We all go into the living room, Mikhail throwing himself on the corner couch, sprawled out. Nobody says anything until Mikhail finally gets up and puts on the record player.

Classical music plays, and Lia smiles. "What is it?" I ask, finding it impossible to be in a bad mood when she's around.

"This song… It was playing when…" She trails off when she realizes we're all watching her. "A good time."

"When?" Ania asks.

"It doesn't matter."

"Go on," she persists.

"I was painting… and I saw a friend."

I smile, remembering it, her belly gurgling, the banter after.

"Excuse me," she says, standing up. "I need to use the little girl's room. That's what rich people say, right, not toilet?"

I watch her go. She holds up her dress, making walking easier, revealing her short heels. My woman moves a bit awkwardly, making me want her even more. After she's gone, Ania giggles, staring at me.

"What?"

"You know what," she says. "The big bad scary Sokolov Pakhan is in love."

"Ania," I snap.

"Relax, brother," Mikhail says, laughing. "It's not like it's a secret."

I glance at Mila, sitting there with her hands clasped, her legs jittery, like she wants nothing less than to attend this dinner with her dad. I can't blame her. If my old man were still around, I wouldn't want to meet with him either.

"I never said I was in love."

"Will you deny it, hmm?" Ania teases.

"Focus on your own love lives," I grunt. "Well, not you, Ania."

She laughs again in that carefree way she sometimes has. She's got so much personality, so much to offer.

"You know I'm an adult, right, dear brother?"

"You're my baby sister, my little ballerina," I tell her. "It's hard not to think of you that way. Sorry, kiddo."

"Oh, now you're trying to push my buttons," she says with a big, stuck-in-place smile. "Calling me kiddo…"

"What, you don't like it?" I smirk.

She rolls her eyes. "Anyway, I don't have a love life, so who cares? I just want to perform."

"We'll see about enrolling you in a ballet school soon," I tell her.

"Really?" she says excitedly.

I smile. "Really."

When Lia returns, she sits next to me. I take her hand, and nobody comments. Mikhail lies on the corner couch, not looking at anyone, not even at Mila. If my Lia was sitting there looking like her world was exploding, there's no damn way I could just lie down, not giving a damn. No way I could ignore her. It seems so damn obvious to me he doesn't care about her.

Part of me is disappointed. It would be good for Mikhail to find somebody. Maybe it would make a good fit with their shared passion for computers. Yet, looking at them, there's no way. Even when Mila sniffles and wraps her arms around herself, Mikhail lies there, staring up at the ceiling.

Maybe I don't know much about love, but I know it's not that.