Page 81 of Brutal Secrets
“Tell me you understand, zolotaya,” he whispers, and I can taste the mint and cigarettes on his breath as he leans into me. “Tell me I can protect you. Pozhaluysta.” He shuts his eyes and pulls me into him, lips landing softly on mine like a question.
He’s so soft for such a hard man as he presses his mouth against my top and then my bottom lip. These featherlight kisses ask for something he’s not willing to put into words. I open to him, and his tongue dances with mine. The low groan he makes reverberates through my chest as he pulls me against him, fisting my hair to pull me closer. He drags his hot mouth away from mine, arms tugging me against him as his lips paint a trail of fire up my neck.
“I can’t risk you, zolotaya. I can’t lose you when I’ve only just found you again.” His voice wavers against the column of my neck, sending shivers down each of my vertebrae.
Pulling back, I look at the desperate expression on Vadim’s face and nod. He sags with relief, closing his eyes on a sigh and pressing his lips against my forehead.
“I know Sasha is a raging asshole.” His laughter shakes his body as it surrounds me, as if the tension between me and his friend is a joke. “But no one else has my back the way he does. Let him help me find Nadia. I trust him in this.”
Stepping back, he holds my shoulders and searches my face, worry lining his forehead and creasing his eyes. I can’t resist sliding my palm against his cheek to reassure him. He squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his lips against my palm before he looks back at me, eyes burning with pale fire.
I nod, not asking him to confirm which other ways he doesn’t trust Sasha. Pressing a quick kiss to his mouth, I bite back the observation that Sasha will never support Vadim being with me. Instead, I focus on what is really important.
“I need you to take Dex with you if I can’t be there.”
He pulls my hand against his chest, letting me feel his heartbeat against my palm. If there’s any hope of getting our daughter back, I’ll have to trust him, but something holds me back.
Vadim hasn’t committed to us, and concern for Nadia doesn’t mean he’s ready to love us.
I turn my head away, trying to slip from his arms, but he hauls me against his body and whispers against my mouth.
“Believe in me, zolotaya. Wait for me.”
My heart says yes, but years of disappointments and wrong turns tell me to hold myself back. He cups my face in his hands, searching my eyes before he nods. I see something I’m not yet willing to put into words.
Chapter Fifty-One
Whatever I expected when I arrived at the Spataro mansion out in Long Island, it wasn’t this. I’ve got Dex as back up outside like we are preparing for war, but the man standing in front of me and Sasha is barely worthy of the term. He’s dwarfed by the desk in front of him, and his suit hangs off his shoulders like a shopping bag. He’s a boy playing dress-up.
He stands as we enter the room, then reaches over to shake my hand. His grip is surprisingly firm, and he holds eye contact like this is a regular business meeting. “Dante Spataro. I believe you know who my father is, but I’d like to assure you both it has no connection with Nadia’s presence in this house.”
He waves the two of us to a pair of leather armchairs in front of the desk, which sits on a raised plinth to give the man behind it the advantage of height. I’ve heard that Vincenzo Spataro is short, but his son probably won’t need a raised desk to tower over his guests once he grows into his suit.
Looking around the room, I wonder if the Spataro family knew Nadia was my daughter before I did and planted their kid in Nadia’s school.
My eyes slide over to Sasha, who nods, compressing his lips in an effort to keep a straight face. The rush of amusement we’re feeling is dangerous when we don’t really know what’s going on in this room. This boy may not be a threat to us, but his father is, and he’s still got a hold of Nadia.
Standing in front of the desk, I nod at him and study his body language. “So, you’re the man who has kidnapped my daughter.”
He looks surprisingly at ease, but there’s a sprinkling of acne on his face and although his hair is dark, there’s no five o’clock shadow on his jaw. If he’s shaving, he doesn’t have much of a beard.
“She hasn’t been kidnapped.” He waves to a pair of mahogany chairs that stand in front of the huge desk. “Please. Take a seat. Let’s discuss this in a civilized manner.”
Sasha looks over at me, and I can see he’s biting back a smile. We both sit down and neither of us speak.
“Can I offer either of you a drink?” The boy points to a tumbler of cognac—something both the Italians and the Russians like to drink. “It’s a little early in the day for me, but if the two of you would like a drink, I’ll join you.”
“Thank you. But no.” I give him a cold smile. “I’d like to see Nadia before we talk about anything else. Proof of life, as they say.”
“Of course. How inconsiderate of me.” He picks up his phone and puts it to his ear. “Danni, can the two of you come downstairs? Nadia’s dad is here.”
I hear giggling, followed by the sound of footsteps overhead.
“They’ll be right down. I overheard Nadia saying she was planning to go missing to worry you. She and Danni concocted a plan to vanish on the streets of New York for a couple of days.” He looks over at the door as if he’s waiting for them to emerge. “I hope you’ll forgive me. I took the liberty of both keeping them safe and arranging a meeting with you. I didn’t fancy the idea of two ten-year-olds roaming Manhattan, and I thought this might be a more effective way of giving you a scare.”
He gives me a sly grin, but he’s saved from an angry retort by the arrival of the two girls in question.
Nadia, sporting a pair of long braids wound around her head and a long, flowing black dress that makes her look like a nineteenth-century Russian peasant, follows behind a girl dressed head to toe in bubblegum pink.