Page 112 of Lethal Obsession

“Here’s the thing.” I brace myself. “I need a secure communication room installed in my house. And I need to have it done without Papa knowing about it.”

The silence that follows is so long that I start to think the call has cut out. “Mickey? You still on the line?”

“Yup” comes his flat response. “Still here.”

More silence.

“You going to say something?” I ask eventually.

“Nothing good,” he says curtly. “I take it the reason for this request is the same reason Mak’s secretary has been fielding my calls all week?”

I wince. “Correct.”

“He’s a very fucked-up reason, Ofelia,” Mickey says coldly. “As I think I’ve already mentioned.” It doesn’t escape me that despite his clear fury at Alexei, my brother is still cautious enough not to mention his name over the phone.

I bite back a very strong retort. “Can you do it or not?” I struggle to keep an even tone. “I wouldn’t be coming to you with this if I had another choice.”

“Why are you coming to me with this?” he counters. “Someone else too scared to man up?”

“Oh, fuck off, Mickey.” There’s nothing like being lectured by a younger sibling to piss a girl off. “Don’t forget that I knew you when you were just a skinny nerd of a kid, instead of some tech bro with a six-pack.”

Shit. For a moment I genuinely think he might hang up on me.

Then, to my relief, my brother gives a snort of laughter. “A tech bro with a six-pack? I’m going to remember that one.”

“Sorry,” I say, meaning it. “I just—it’s complicated. And for what it’s worth, asking you to build it was Lars’s idea, not ours. Neither of us wanted to ask you. I insisted on talking to you first, which didn’t go down at all well, by the way.”

“Ha. I bet it didn’t.” He sounds marginally comforted by the thought of pissing Alexei off. “Ours,” he says a moment later. “And us. I take it that whatever you two have going on isn’t going anywhere, then?”

“No,” I answer immediately. “No, Mickey, it’s not going anywhere.”

“But he hasn’t spoken to Roman about it,” my brother says flatly.

“Like I said.” I match his tone. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah.” His tone is more than a little caustic. “You have no idea how fucking complicated it is.”

Now I’m really getting pissed off. “No, of course I don’t, Mickey, because as we both know, I’m not allowed to know those kind of details, am I? I just have to fucking put up with the consequences of them. So this is me doing that. Now—are you going to help me or not?”

Another long silence, during which I really wish my brother was close enough for me to physically torture. But when he finally speaks again, his tone is much less combative.

“Fair enough,” he says quietly. “Sorry, ’Felia.” His use of my old nickname brings unexpected tears to my eyes.

“It’s fine.” I sniff. “I was being mean.”

“Yeah, well. I was being an asshole.” That’s the thing about my brother—he’s impossible to stay mad at. “I’ll talk to Lars,” he says. “And yes. I’ll help you.” He pauses. “But I have some . . . business to take care of first, so it might be a few days. Okay?”

“Okay.” I sniff again. “Thanks, Mickey. I mean it.”

“Yeah.” He sounds resigned now, rather than angry. “Christ. What a mess. No offense, Ofelia, but you could have chosen someone slightly less problematic.”

I give a choked laugh. “Since when does anyone in this family make the less problematic choice?”

“Good point,” he says ruefully. “Okay, crazy sibling. I have to get back to the madhouse before Roman’s radar goes off.”

“Give them my love.”

“Ha,” Mickey says. “Lie to them for you, you mean. Man, you’re going to owe me for this one. And I do mean owe. Like years of favors.”