Page 200 of Lethal Obsession

“You like?” I realize Dima is watching me with more trepidation than a kid coming down before prom.

“It’s epic.” Even if it doesn’t feel like mine. But he doesn’t need to know that.

I shake my head in genuine amazement. “I don’t know how the fuck you got this done, Dima, but whatever I’m paying you, we need to double it.”

His face cracks into an extremely rare smile as he looks around the room like a proud father. “Imma fucking hold you to that, asshole.” Nodding in satisfaction, he tilts his head to the door. “We’re taking the rear exit.” I follow him through another seemingly invisible door to find myself in a narrow tunnel of reinforced concrete with strip lighting overhead and epoxy coating in a dark charcoal gray. There are cameras covering every inch of the uphill distance to the heavy door at the other end. When I look behind us, I can’t see any evidence of the door we just used to exit the control room, only a bland concrete panel exactly like the others.

“There’s a biometric entrance for that as well.” Dima shows me the panel. “But the user would need to get through the blast door first.” I admire the multipoint locking system, which again reminds me of a submarine door. Dima opens it, and suddenly I’m standing in one of the far corridors of the Miami house.

“Christ.” I look around in surprise. “It’s the same damn tunnel we used years ago to sneak in and out of the place.”

“Yup.” He lifts his shoulder. “You said to put the entrance somewhere nobody would find it. I figured the Orlovs never found this one, so why fuck with what already works?”

From the corridor, it looks like the door doesn’t exist. It’s simply part of the wall, fitting as seamlessly into the dark mahogany paneling as it always did.

“Now,” Dima says, still looking uncharacteristically cheerful as he sends a text message, “get ready. There’s quite the fucking party waiting.”

Mildly surprised that so many of the crew are here at this time of night, I walk with him toward the main salon, trying to remove myself from the future I built but can no longer see. I’m here to deal with the past.

The irony of anticipating the future beneath my feet, instead of recoiling from the rancid stench of the brutal past, isn’t lost on me.

If my father were here, I think, my heart twisting painfully, he’d no doubt have something to say about the symbolism of that.

But my father isn’t here.

Bracing myself for what is coming, I force myself to turn away from the future. To cut ruthlessly through the fantasy I’ve been living and reach inside for the man they know.

The man I was.

The man I’m going to need to become again.

Dima opens the door.

Taking a deep breath, I step inside.

“Hey, asshole.” Mickey Stevanovsky steps forward with a half smile, his dark eyes wary. “About fucking time you showed up.”

40

Ofelia

“Thank God you’re here.” I cling to Darya in the Palermo airport, my phalanx of security momentarily forgotten. “And you.” I hug Masha, who returns my embrace with a reasonable dose of teenage insouciance.

“We left the boys at home,” Masha says, with the satisfied air of someone who won that particular argument. “With the niñeras and Abby.” She uses the Spanish word for nannies, mixing her languages as she has since she was very small. “Abby’s mother came all the way from Australia to help.” Her smile turns slightly evil. “The boys hate her.”

“Masha,” Darya says, frowning.

She shrugs, unrepentant. “Well, they do. She’s muy estricta—doesn’t let them get away with anything.” She sounds positively gleeful.

“Quite the party.” I raise my eyebrows at Darya. Abby’s mother is a farmer’s wife, so she’s extremely no-nonsense.

She can also be rather vocal in her opinions, so her visits often result in Abby spending a lot of time at Darya’s villa with an enormous gin and tonic in her hand, saying that she remembers exactly why she thought moving to the other side of the world was a good idea.

“Zinaida and Luke are helping out as well,” Darya says. “Abby is at our villa, so they’ve taken her and Dimitry’s place next door. Luke’s sister has come over from Australia to help with their baby, Mila.” She looks as pale and strained as I feel. “They all send their love, by the way.”

“I’m so glad Luke is there.”

“He wasn’t happy about not going to Miami.” She shakes her head. “But Roman wouldn’t hear of it, not when Mila is barely a month old. To be honest, I’m not sure that either Roman or I would have felt comfortable leaving unless he’d agreed to come and stay, anyway. Lucky Zinaida and Abby get along so well. But enough about us.” She glances at me concernedly as we head for the exit. “How is Lars?”