Page 24 of Den of Thieves
“I’m surprised there’s not more security,” Donald said, looking Andrei up and down.
“They like to hide in plain sight,” Karina shrugged. “How did you find me?”
“Your FBI friends came to my office hours at the university a while back.”
“Hmm,” Karina turned on her heel and led him into the expansive kitchen with a view of Lake Michigan out the back windows.
“You aren’t going to ask me what they said?”
“Not unless you want to tell me. Tea?”
“Sure,” he said, sitting down on a barstool. “These people came at me hard. Showing me mansions and asking questions. They said you were married to the head of some Russian crime syndicate. I didn’t believe them, of course. Said they had the wrong girl. I let it slip that I haven’t seen to you in almost a decade, and they left.”
“Mmm,” Karina made a non-committal noise as she filled their tea bags with gunpowder green tea.
“I thought they were crazy. Trying to take the black man down. One of those agents was a real piece of work, too. Then I started noticing the scary white guys following me everywhere I went. And that got me thinking… what if those assholes weren’t lying?”
“You should be on a true crime podcast, Dad,” Karina snorted, pulling the kettle off the burner.
“Don’t sass me, Rina. I couldn’t remember the name they said, but with some digging, I found that husband of yours.” He pulled out his phone. “Vladimir Mikhailovich Kovalyov. Billionaire businessman, restaurateur, oligarch. You looked beautiful on your wedding day by the way.”
“Is that all you found, Dad?”
“Don’t patronize me, girl!” He pulled out a folder she didn’t know he was carrying and slammed pictures down with every point he made. “Restaurant openings. Ribbon cuttings. Spa closures for two people. Massive corporation acquisitions. Luncheons with the fucking president of not one, but at least three countries!” He took a breath and quieted his voice. “Then I found it. It was an old article from 2005. I had to pay to have it translated… Is Vladimir the Ruthless Russia’s Newest Nightmare? Is this why you never come home?”
“Your tea is getting cold.”
“Man, fuck this tea!”
“Dad, you need to calm down.”
“You can dress up anything in diamonds and blanket them in wealth, but that will never change what he is. A criminal.”
Karina sighed, looking out the floor to ceiling windows. This time, the view did nothing to calm her ire. “Dad, you should stop while you’re ahead.”
“Is he holding you hostage? I have a friend at the state attorney’s office. If it’s about the children—”
“Dad, stop! You know I wasn’t welcome at your home when I was with my ex-husband. And after the two of you sounded when I called about my grandparents, why would I come to you if I needed help?” Karina paused at the hurt on his face and forced herself to calm down. “No, I’m not being held hostage, alright? I’m with Vladimir for the same reason you were with mom all these years.”
“No prenup?” He asked with a smirk.
“No. I love him.”
“So, this life is your choice.”
“Since nearly the beginning.”
“Nearly?!” His eyes bulged.
“Calm down, Dad. Russian humor.” She winced at the small lie.
Karina watched as he fiddled with his mug. There was a war going on in his head. She knew he relished in being right as much as the next accomplished historian. But this was his daughter. Donald Moore was going to have to make a choice. Accept this lifestyle, as Karina did, or go another ten years without physical contact with his only child.
“Are… are the children here?” he asked hesitantly.
“No, they had school. It’s a pain to travel with their nannies and disrupt their schedules for a quick trip.”
“I understand,” he deflated a little.