Beautiful Beast - Page 100

“Absolutely not.”

“Vasilisa is in love with him, kotik.” Grabbing a fistful of my shirt, she practically thrusts her nose against mine. “You’re calling Sergei off. Now!”

“What? No, she can’t be in love with him.”

“She’s planning to return to Sicily!” Nina yells into my face while shaking me. “I tried to convince her to tell you the truth, but she was scared this is exactly what you would do!”

I stare at my wife while a firestorm rages inside me. My baby girl can’t be in love with a goddamned De Santi, can she? I’ve already arranged dinner, inviting my accountant and telling him to bring his son. The boy works in the records management department of a retirement home. A nice, safe guy. One who’s the same age as Vasilisa. Not a fucking assassin-for-hire who lives on another continent.

“Nina, baby, she’s just confused.”

“She’s not fucking confused! She loves him!” My sweet little wife is now roaring so loud that I fear the windows may shatter. “You can’t do this! Her father cannot kill the man she loves! It will destroy her, Roman! And it will destroy you!”

“Vasya deserves someone nice. Someone who will keep her safe.”

“Don’t you understand? She doesn’t want nice. She wants him. And he’s kept her safe all along. Even when you couldn’t.”

I furrow my brows. “What are you talking about?”

“The mall. The explosion twenty years ago. Rafael De Santi is the man who saved our daughter’s life!”

That’s . . . that’s not possible. But . . . Oh fuck. As much as I want to deny Nina’s words, somehow I know it’s the truth. Since the moment I met De Santi more than decade ago, I’ve always wondered what happened to him. I never made the connection.

Vasya.

I leap out of the chair and grab the phone.

The needle on the speedometer is hovering over the one-hundred-miles-per-hour mark. I press the gas pedal harder, swerving between the other vehicles on the road. It’s five minutes after seven. Rafael’s plane just took off. Without me. Doesn’t matter, I’ll take the first commercial flight I can get on, as soon as I know the man I love is safe. There’s still time. My uncle prefers to work during the night. I take a calming breath, but the air suddenly gets caught in my lungs, and I almost plow into the car in front of me.

The time difference. I forgot about the goddamned time difference! Sicily is seven hours ahead of Chicago. It’s two in the morning there right now. No. No. No!

The streetlight in front of me changes to red. I hit the gas harder. A pickup truck approaches from the side road, and I barely miss it as I fly through the intersection. Our neighborhood is just a mile away. I call Rafael again. And again.

No answer.

Slamming on the brakes in our driveway, I’m shaking so much that I can hardly open the car door. I don’t bother shutting it, just take off at a run, taking the stone steps to the front door two at a time.

The door of Dad’s office is ajar. I stumble inside and stare at my father. The words are stuck in my closed-up throat. Dad is standing next to his desk, the phone pressed to his ear. Mom is in front of him, clutching his shirt.

“Sergei.” My father’s deep voice breaks the silence. “Abort.”

A choked sound of relief leaves my lips. I lean back on the wall because my legs are threatening to give out. My eyes stare blazingly into my father’s. He’s still holding the phone to his ear. The muscles of his jaw are tight, and his eyebrows are furrowed.

“M?? ?? ????? ?????, ??????. ??????????” he barks and lowers the phone.

I don’t even breathe as I wait for the great Roman Petrov to say something.

“Dad?” I whimper.

My father takes a deep breath, his eyes downcast. Avoiding looking at me.

15 minutes earlier

My phone rings as soon as I turn it back on, and just as I’m reaching for the front door. The pilot’s name lights up the screen. I take a look at my wristwatch. Five minutes after two.

“We’re ready for takeoff, boss.”

“Alright.” I nod, even though he can’t see me, then wait. I can’t bring myself to ask for confirmation of what I already know.