Chapter 25 Andre
ANDRE
“Need anything else?” I asked Sergei as we left the building where a couple of morons from the Cartel tried to harass the bartender at one of our bars.
Security kept them overnight in a dungeon for us to question and interrogate.
Sergei would’ve handled it on his own just fine, but he’d wanted to “check on me” with the news spread about a mole or spy still being in my building, or interfering with business from my end.
“With them?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the Cartel gangsters who wouldn’t be messing with us anytime soon after the lesson we’d taught them.
I was just glad that no blood had messed up my suit.
“No. I’m good.” He shot me a wry look. “I only asked you to come so we could catch up and talk.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, no thanks.”
I’d told him the same thing that I’d told my father. And Oleg. I would defend Sofia. But I wasn’t ready to be blind to evidence. If she was a spy or connected to any of our enemies, I would stand loyal with my family. Not her.
“What did the security team find?” he asked. “When they swept for the bugs?”
I sighed and headed toward my car. “Nothing.” And wasn’t that a kicker? “They picked up a hint of a device, but not from inside the house.”
“So the reading was wrong?”
I shook my head. “No. The signal’s picking up outside of my building. Not inside. That could be anything that anyone tossed onto the property in passing.”
He nodded slowly, still skeptical.
“Look, I’m not going to be stupid about this.”
He smiled goofily. “Fuck, Cuz. Love makes all of us stupid.”
“Who said it’s love?” I challenged, feeling like a liar. If I had a better gauge of what love was supposed to be like, I’d chime in. “I’m not going to be stupid about this. About her. I’m going to talk to her and figure this out.” I was too thorough not to give this concern all of my attention.
“Good. And hey, if you need anything…”
I held up my hand as he trailed off with his vague offer. “Yeah. Yeah. I can ask you.”
I got into my car and headed home. On the drive, I replayed how last night had gone. Was Sofia shaking her head to my question whether she was a spy? Or had she been thrashing her head from side to side because of how fiercely she’d come?
As soon as I parked and entered the house, I scanned the foyer for a clue of where to find her. She couldn’t still be sleeping in, but hell, maybe she would be. I’d worn her out. And Renee and Susana had mentioned how they’d noticed Sofia napping a few times this week.
Oleg strode down the corridor, furrowing his brow.
“Where’s Sofia?” I asked. He wasn’t her keeper, but he’d know. He seemed to always know what was going on around here, and when he didn’t, he didn’t have any reservation about making his fucking assumptions.
“In your room.” He raised his chin and let out a deep breath as if he was bracing to give me bad news. “I think she’s getting ready to bolt.”
My brows shot up. “What? What the fuck did you say?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
I passed him, mad all over again. “Nothing? Bullshit, Oleg. You fucking talked to my father.”
“I am assigned to assist you, but he is my boss. Yours, too.”
“He’s also my father.” Literally. “You shouldn’t have gone over my head.”
He held his hand up, walking with me. It’d take more than a little attitude from me to scare him off. He’d seen me at my worst and my best and could weather everything in between. “I didn’t say anything to her, though. She almost ran into me and had a bag. Like she could be trying to pack and go.”
Fuck!
I rubbed my jaw and growled. “No. That’s not fucking happening. You tell the security team that she is not allowed to fucking leave.”
I can’t lose her. Not like this.
“Are you going to be able to accept it if it’s proven that she’s a traitor? A liar?”
I gritted my teeth and spun to face him. “Fuck you. Are you going to eat your goddamn words when it’s proven she’s not?”
I wasn’t being obtuse or stubborn for the sake of it. The way she made me feel was too real. Too good. She couldn’t be the wrong woman for me. Not when it felt so right with her.
He held his hands up again, as if physically gesturing that we’d agree to disagree on this—for now.
I hurried away from him, finding Sofia in my room. She wasn’t packing. She wasn’t on the bed or in sight. The horrible sounds of her retching reached my ears and I ran to the bathroom.
“Sofia?” I frowned at her getting up from bending over the toilet. Flushing gurgles were already halfway through from her pushing the lever.
“Oh!” She was startled, flinching back and clearly not expecting me. Her face seemed pale, her tan not as golden despite her spending so much time on the balcony reading under the sunshine. “I didn’t realize you’d be back so soon.”
“Were you hoping I wouldn’t be?” I asked. Confusion set in. Was she trying to run like Oleg said, or was he assuming the worst of her? And why did she seem so sick?
Only one thing popped into my mind. Because Claire and Natalie had recently been expecting and dealt with some morning sickness on and off.
“Are you—”
“No,” she hurried to say. “I wasn’t hoping you wouldn’t be back so soon.” Her reply was to the question I’d spoken out loud, not the one that pinged in my head. “I miss you the second you’re gone. Always.”
Furrowing my brow as she headed to the bedroom, I ran my hand over my head. “Are you not feeling well?” I asked instead. That wasn’t as loaded of an inquiry or demand as asking her if she was pregnant was.
“No, I’m not. I ate some of that cheesecake that Renee left out yesterday. I think it sat out of the fridge for too long and it’s messing me up.” She lay on the bed, curling up and hugging her side. “Nothing serious.”
I narrowed my eyes. Her breath hitched at the end of her added comment.
Is she crying?
Was she?
I was so twisted with not knowing what to think or say that I could only stand there.
The urge to comfort her warred with the necessity to interrogate her.
I had no direction on how to handle this.
As she reclined and hugged a pillow, burrowing her face into the fabric, it looked like she was barely hanging on to staying awake and not in pain.
I’m not getting any answers out of her like this.
“Do I need to go get Claire?” I could’ve put a little more concern in my tone, but I caught myself from going too soft on her.
Until I could know, without a doubt, if she was a threat and a liar—a spy sneaking close right under my nose—I had to walk a fine line with her.
Every second of doubting her felt like a crime, but I hadn’t lied to Sergei or my father.
I refused to be stupid about this, about her.
“No. Please don’t. I’m just going to…” She heaved out a deep breath that almost could’ve been a yawn. “I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute and let my stomach settle.”
“I can—”
“Don’t. Please. I don’t want to bother her or inconvenience her just because I ate something that doesn’t agree with me.”
I watched her for a moment, torn with how to handle this.
“We need to talk,” I reminded her.
She didn’t open her eyes. “I know you want to talk.”
I slitted my eyes again. Curious choice of wording. She was acknowledging that I wanted to have a conversation with her, not that she would agree to it happening.
“Rest, then. And we’ll talk afterward.”
I left the room, hating how much of a coward I was to give up.
Only for now. She really didn’t look well, and if I pushed her in that condition, she could very well be incoherent and not even know what the hell she was saying.
We’d all dealt with stomach bugs before.
Last year, Roman and I endured a hellish round of food poisoning at his birthday party.
Rest. And when you’re up, we are getting to the bottom of why I can’t convince myself—and anyone else here—that there’s nothing suspicious about you.
If she were pregnant…
No. Don’t go there. Not yet.
It was hard enough for me to get past the possibility of her betraying me at all. But add in a child—my son or daughter—and I wasn’t sure how I could navigate this deception.