Page 64 of Claimed By the Pakhan

FIA

Over the next few days,I find myself falling in love with Emil like I had a feeling I would.

He’s impossible to ignore. I see him making coffee, kitchen towel slung over his shoulder, and my chest explodes with joy. Nobody gets to see this unguarded side of Emil apart from me, and I feel honored that he’s able to drop his guard around me.

For the most part, he’s been staying home. The dockyard has become a danger zone. Thirty-three men were killed, four of their bodies manipulated, tied to the bow of a ship to symbolize the Gromov’s increasing power in the shipping industry. Emil is well aware of this but still insists on heading to the dockyard, watching things. I have my way every time when I lose my gown, stripping naked in front of him.

Now he’s the one trapped.

I sit at the kitchen table where Emil was eating breakfast with Ivan only a few days ago, slipping the shipping manifest from my pocket. I carry it everywhere in the hopes of having a eureka moment, but I’m still in the dark.

Ivan definitely wrote this, since he was the one in charge of shipping manifests.

“Were you telling the truth about monitoring the Vancouver port?” I ask Emil, glancing up from the paper.

“Partly,” says Emil. “If you’re referring to breakfast with Ivan and Luka, I had to jump in with a white lie to keep things neutral with Ivan, since I thought he was guilty,” says Emil, leaning into the countertop, watching me from the stove. “While we do watch Vancouver in the general sense, we never send active ships over there and write cargo manifests.”

“Which means Ivan didn’t write this?”

Emil purses his lip. “Clearly not.”

“What about Luka?”

“I’m sure the man behind this wouldn’t bait himself out, writing his own name on the report,” says Emil, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Like I said last night, this person is sly. Maybe I was mistaken about them being in the Bratva.”

“How else would they be able to leak information?”

“By being close enough to someone who has connections.” Emil flashes me a pointed look, his mouth twitching with hesitation.

“No,” I say, reading his face. “If you’re referring to Chloe, she’s innocent.”

“We can’t afford to rule her out.”

“We can. She’s my friend.”

“Who could be feeding information to Alexander, destroying us.”

“Chloe has absolutely no interest in destroying me,” I scoff. “I thought you were better than this.”

“When our family pays the price, I will happily disappoint you if it means we can raise the twins without danger,” says Emil, switching off the stove to give me his full attention. “The truth stings. Unfortunately, from where I’m standing, Chloe would have a motive as destroying my Bratva would bring her closer to her friend.”

From where he’s standing…

Emil stands right at the top, observing the world from a bird’s eye view. What if he had a point? Being emotionally invested in something causes you to misinterpret logic.

As if right on cue, my phone rings with an incoming call from Chloe herself.

I sigh, rising from the table, heading into the next room.

“Who’s calling?”

“My bestie,” I say, glaring at Emil as I slip into the next room, heading upstairs.

I stare at her name, my heart splitting down the middle at the thought of the one person I trust pulling the wool over my eyes. She wouldn’t. Emil projects his insecurities onto everyone else. He’s wrong about her.

“Chloe?” I say, answering the phone. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” she sighs down the receiving end of the phone. “I was worried this would ring through to voicemail,” she says, altering her tone. “Look, Fia, about the gala a few nights ago—I’m sorry for the way I snuck in and yanked you away. It was out of order,considering you actually looked like you were enjoying yourself up until I arrived.”