Chapter Sixteen

Brooke

"I don't want to go to school today!" Karina whined, and stomped her feet, two things she hadn't done since she was a toddler, which told me something bigger was going on with my little girl.

It also meant the coffee I just poured was probably going to sit there and get cold. "Come here, Karina."

She froze in the doorway to the kitchen, as if she wasn't sure if she was in trouble or not.

"Come here, Karina. Please."

She shuffled across the floor and stopped in front of me. "Yes, Mom?"

I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tight. "What's going on, honey? You know you can talk to me about anything."

It took her a minute, but she eventually hugged me back, wrapping her little arms tight around my neck. "There's a daddy-daughter dance at school and I really want to go. I'm the best dancer," she insisted. "The best. Only, I don't have a daddy. All I have is Uncle Ryan, and I love him lots, but he's not my dad." The last few words came out on a sob that hit me like a donkey kick straight to the chest.

I rubbed her back and made soothing sounds until her tears had settled enough that she could breathe. "I'm so sorry, Karina." I was sorrier than she would ever know that I hadn't been able to give her the father she deserved.

She pulled back and stared up at me, so many features from Ilya that it hurt to look at her. "Maybe we can find him? I can tell him about the dance, and he'll want to go with me." The hope and desperation in her blue eyes were enough to break my heart all over again.

I was at a loss about what to do. Her father was here, back in the US and back in Winter Valley. Theoretically, he could attend the dance with her, but that would require me to tell Ilya he'd left me pregnant, which I had no intention of doing. Ever.

Which probably made me the world's worst mom.

I accepted that because I didn't know Ilya anymore. Sure, I hadn't made an effort to get to know him, but something was off about him and his life. I didn't know what because I didn't allow myself to get too involved in the lives of my clients, and because I didn't want to know.

"Sweetheart, you know what I told you about him. Your daddy went far away, and I lost contact. Not every kid has a father, what about your friend Ana, she doesn't have a dad too."

My daughter stared at me with Ilya's eyes. The gaze as scrutinizing as his, "Ana's daddy got sick and died. That's why he's not there."

I gave a long sigh, it looked like the talk I was hoping to put off for a few more years was going to happen sooner than I had anticipated. She might have only been seven, but Karina was a smart kid. "Let me think about it," I finally told my daughter, the universal parental language for I hope you forget about this after a few days so I don't have to do anything about it.

Yep, I was definitely the worst mother in the world.

I stared longingly at my now cold coffee before herding Karina back upstairs to wash her face and finish getting her ready for school.

***

On my way to work I stopped off for the biggest cup of java I could find. There was a cute little shop a couple of blocks from the office.

I held the oversized cup in both hands, letting the warmth absorb the early morning chill as I took the first sip. The second sip warmed me a little and the third sent a jolt of energy bolting through my body, waking me up and focusing my eyes against the harsh morning sun. When I finally felt like a human again, I walked the two blocks to my office with a bit more pep in my step.

I sipped and watched the other people as they walked past me, some in business suits, some business casual like me, and others wore street clothes. I spotted a man up ahead with a scowl on his face. Then I noticed the tattoo on his throat and instantly was on edge. Not because of his tattoos, but because of this aura of danger about him that I didn't like. I looked away as we crossed paths.

Suddenly he stepped in front of me.

"Whoa," I shouted and stumbled back as his shoulder bumped mine, looking up into almost black eyes. I bit my tongue to avoid apologizing for something that wasn't my fault, but I reconsidered in the face of the anger that burned in his gaze.

"Listen to me, bitch." He growled the words, grabbing my arm when I tried to get away.

"Get your hands off me!" I spoke louder than necessary, hoping the noise would alert someone to my distress. But the few people who had noticed averted their gazes, unwilling to get involved.

"Stop telling your lies to Ilya. Or else." His accent was thick, far thicker than Ilya's or even his associate Dmitri.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He laughed. "Don't lie to me. Keep your opinions to yourself, Brooke. If I have to warn you again, you may not live to regret it." With those words, he released me hard enough to make me stumble and then walked off as if we'd been having a friendly conversation. "Call him and tell him you made a mistake, and you and your daughter will be safe."

My heart raced and my hands trembled so much that the coffee sloshed through the sip hole burning the back of my hand. It took me a minute or two to get my legs to work, and when they did, I hustled to the office and chugged down the rest of the coffee before tossing the cup in the trash angrily. Fear had pulsed through my veins, but now as the caffeine hit my blood stream, rage took over.

"Fuck that guy!" I picked up my cell phone and punched in Ilya's number because I refused to save it for reasons I wouldn't think about right now. All I could think about now was how angry and scared I was. "Ilya, this is Brooke. How fucking dare you send one of your goons after me over a professional disagreement. If you're unhappy with my advice, get a second opinion." I ended the call with my hands still shaking and let out a long, frustrated breath.

This morning was off to a horrible start.

"How's my favorite bookkeeper doing today?"

"Horrible," I groaned, which made Ruben frown. It was uncharacteristic of me to reveal anything but complete professionalism at the office.

"Anything I can do to help?" His question surprised me.

"Actually, yes." I gave him a more detailed rundown of what I found on Ilya's accounts. "What should I do?"

Ruben looked left and then right before he stepped inside my office and closed the door, which put me on high alert. Ruben scrubbed his face and dropped down into the seat across from me. "Look, I have certain clients who, let's say, might not operate conventional businesses. We do their books, and we turn a blind eye to any discrepancies. And we don't ask questions. Ever. That's how we got a reputation for loyalty. It's rumored that Ilya is somehow connected to the bratva, but that's none of my damn business and it's not something you need to overthink either."

I gave him a blank stare. "Bratva? Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

His brown eyes widened almost comically, as if I said I didn't know who Taylor Swift was. "That's the Russian mafia."

"Wait, what? You're telling me that Ilya is connected with the Russian mob?" I couldn't believe it.

"Yes. Those are the rumors, but of course there's never any confirmation of this kind of thing, is there?"

"Fuck." I felt like all the blood had drained out of my face.

"Ae you all right?"

"I'm not sure, Ruben. But I will be." I had to be because I needed to keep Karina safe from her father if what Ruben said was true. Did Ilya know about Karina? That thug had threatened me and my daughter. In my anger I'd automatically assumed he was one of Ilya's men, but what if he wasn't?

Damn it! I'd left that message for Ilya, if this man wasn't one of his own, then what had I done? What the fuck was happening with my life?

"I can take over Ilya's account, if that's what you need me to do, I will." Ruben sounded concerned.

Ruben came across as a shifty guy, but he'd always been good to me. He was a little money obsessed, which was a good trait to have when you dealt with other people's money all day, but he was a good boss and a good guy who looked out for me. "Thank you. I just need a minute and then I'll be good."

"Okay, I'm here if you need anything." Ruben offered me a smile before leaving my office.

I leaned back in my chair and groaned. Karina wanted to know her father, who by all accounts was in the Russian mafia and had sent one of his mobster goons to threaten me—either that, or someone else wanted me to stop looking too closely at his finances so they could continue ripping him off.

How was this my life now?