Page 6 of Claiming Veronica

Eli’s records while he was with his brother were slim, but they still showed a disturbing pattern of behavior as a child. Things that had intrigued me. I was invested now. There were questions that I had related to the serial killings we’d had a few months ago that Victor was responsible for. Maybe I was making stories up in my head, seeing shadows and conspiracies where there weren’t any. I didn’t understand why Victor had shown up here. It was bizarre.

“Yo, Ronnie,” my sister popped into my room, scaring me. Her brown hair swirled at the force she used to throw her head around the corner, her eyes comically wide.

She was genuinely the best big sister I could ask for. She’d been there through all of my treatments, making sure that I wasn’t ever alone at the hospital. Natty had been my rock. She’d always been my light through all the moments of darkness and despair.

“Jesus, give me a heart attack, why don’t you,” I griped back but without any heat.

I’d begged her to let me come with her to Arizona on this case when our cousin Dimitri had called her down here as a favor for his friend. I wasn’tbragging when I said my sister was a fantastic lawyer. If anyone would have been able to help Pike get off a murder charge, it would be Natasha. Of course, it had been game over once she had met him. I was convinced she and Pike would get married and have babies. I was happy about that. He was good for her and balanced her out. Now, they’d have an epic story to tell their kids.

Where’d you meet Daddy?

Oh, I got him off a murder charge.

I could see it now.

I’d also escaped San Diego, so that was a major plus. It allowed me an opportunity to branch out and try new things away from the smothering influence and oppressive weight of my mother. Then, there was whatever this was with Eli. Not that it was anything, but it was something to occupy my time. All in all, it was a successful move.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed at me in suspicion when I hesitated. She was used to my mind going a million miles an hour, but she also knew I’d go off on unhealthy tangents. I’d mistakenly told Natasha that Eli was leaving me things — that I wished I could talk to him. Now, she was going to hound me because she was worried.

“Doing anything important? Come upstairs for dinner.” She put her hands on her hips as her eyes scoured my office critically. I was sure she was looking at my piles of laundry I hadn’t picked up, my stack of dirty dishes and cottage cheese containers, and judging me. (That probably wasn’t true.)

Natasha was very accepting but was my opposite in every way. She was put together, and I was … not.

“I insist,” she added, rubbing her hand over the edge of the bookshelf. “You need real food. Not cottage cheese. That doesn’t count Ronnie.” She gave me her trademark look of disapproval and concern that was bound to make me feel guilty for neglecting my health. “I’m sending the cleaning staff down here tomorrow too.” She frowned at me. “It needs to be vacuumed and dusted. Things are going to start growing down here.”

I rolled my eyes. “Dinner sounds nice. What is it? You aren’t cooking, right?” It was important to double-check these things around Natasha. She’d almost poisoned me once or twice with her attempts at cooking.

“Gah. My cooking isn’t that terrible. Come on, put some clothes on. I ordered pizza. It’ll be here in fifteen. We can make a salad. You need vegetables,”she paused and eyed me critically. “You know Mom has been hounding me to send you back.” I stiffened.

“You’re joking.” Rummaging around my closet, I pulled on a clean t-shirt and a pair of cut-offs. My heart started to pound just thinking about it. “Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m not joking, actually. She’s been calling non-stop about it. Come here, let me brush your hair. You look like you’ve been living outside under a bush.”

Robotically, I sat on the bed and let her brush through my hair, thinking through the horrific thought that my mother, Sasha Petrova, was contemplating forcing me back to Maxim’s San Diego mansion. Not that it was a terrible place to live, but I wanted a chance to be on my own. To breathe.

Natasha’s voice tugged me out of my thoughts. She was still brushing my hair, but I hadn’t heard a word she'd said. I’d been too wrapped up in my thoughts—Eli, the murders, the lies. Everything felt like one big conspiracy theory I couldn’t let go of.

“Ronnie?” Her voice was sharp now.

"Yeah, pizza sounds great," I mumbled, fingers itching to return to the keyboard. I could almost feelthe pull of the dark web beneath my fingertips, like an invisible thread tugging me back toward the screen. "Just... let me finish this up."

Natasha’s hand paused in my hair, and I knew what was coming before she said it.

"Ronnie..." The warning in her voice was clear as day. "No more digging."

I forced a smile that probably looked convincing if you didn’t know me as well as she did. "Of course. No more digging."

I hadn’t lied. Not exactly. I wouldn’t dig right now, but I wasn’t done. I couldn’t be done. Eli was like an itch I couldn’t scratch. Something about him didn’t sit right with me—something deeper than the lack of an online footprint. The more I thought about it, the more it felt like a deliberate erasure. And people only did that if they had something to hide.

“You’re coming then. To help make a salad and have pizza. Right?” she clarified.

“Yep. I want to hear all about what’s new with you and the MC Prez.” I did, too. That wasn’t a lie.

Following her upstairs onto the main floor, I nodded to Luca and Enzo, who were predictably already lounging in the kitchen, lurking forpizza. Our Bratva guards were part of the family at this point, but they were the big brothers we never had, with the stomachs to match. I sure hope Natasha ordered a lot of pizza.

“Hey guys,” I mumbled.

“What’s shakin’, Ronnie?” Enzo asked, not looking up from his phone as his fingers flew over the keyboard.