Chapter 29 Andre
ANDRE
Icouldn’t stand there and look at her. Seeing the fear and sadness on her expressive face infuriated me. Those expressions weren’t supposed to be there. These emotions weren’t supposed to be tearing us apart like this.
It had felt too real. Too good.
Every kiss she gave me. Each embrace I accepted from her. All those times she’d caved and I’d provided for her. The push and pull of our desire had been growing and leading to something so bright and strong, I hadn’t wanted to consider how wrong I was about her.
But I am.
I’ve been so wrong about it all.
It seemed I still didn’t know what love was. And I might never know. Not with her.
Oleg raised his brows as I exited the room. I moved in tunnel vision, a darkness shrouding my peripheral as my mind raced and my heart crashed against my ribcage.
“Find Renee,” I ordered. He could listen to what I’d recorded later.
He hadn’t been duped. He remained mistrusting of her like I should have.
The look on my face should be plenty to indicate that this conversation hadn’t gone as I hoped it would.
“Have her take Sofia to her former room and keep her there.”
He nodded once. No other questions were asked. No other details were needed. Not now. He’d do as I asked, and so would Renee.
I could trust that they’d secure the liar and spy I’d wanted to love.
While they did, I had to speak to the man I owed an apology to.
The walk to my father’s building was a blur.
Nothing registered. Nothing could. Stuck in this dizzying haze of anger and confusion, I could barely stay upright with the pressure of disappointment crashing down on me, dragging my soul lower and pissing me off.
If I allowed myself to think back to all those times when I’d wanted to defend her and hope that what we shared was real and not a lie, I hated myself a little more, stoking the fire of self-recrimination.
I found him in his study, seated at his desk and just finishing with a call as he lowered his phone and set it on the desktop.
He looked up and raised his brows, giving me the usual silent expectation to explain why I was showing up unannounced.
His door was always open to me, but I was typically too busy and on the go working.
Or lately, spending all my time with Sofia.
Not anymore.
Fuck that.
I wouldn’t even know how to bridge my way back to what we had.
I sat without a word and pulled my phone out. Because I’d had a hunch that Sofia was getting to the point that she’d break and confess her secrets, I’d recorded it.
I pressed play on the recording after I laid the device on his desk for him to hear.
All of it.
He furrowed his brow and gave it all of his attention. Not saying a word, just listening. We went through it one full time, and I replayed it without his prompting.
I’d started to record as soon as I heard her shouting in Italian, so I caught some of the end of her call with Roberto Giovanni.
Included was her rejection of his demand to poison me.
I’d kept my phone in my pocket all while she admitted her sins to me.
Every tearful word was captured. Listening to the anger in my questions and reactions made it sink in more.
This wasn’t a nightmare, but reality.
She’d really done all that. She’d owned up to it. This wasn’t some fallacy in my mind, some stretch of imagination.
The recording failed before she got to the part of admitting she was pregnant. Ruffling sounds took over, and I supposed that when I paced or when I lifted my hands, it jostled my phone in my pocket and it cut off.
As I sat there and felt the burn of my father’s stare on me, I was glad, though. Having to explain that she was carrying my child was another level of fuckery I wasn’t mentally equipped to discuss yet.
For several long, tense moments, my father didn’t say anything. He sat there, in solidarity with me, and seemed to be deliberating what to advise.
And he would. He had to offer a comment or command. Her being here to spy affected us all.
“You were right,” I said at last, uneasy with the silence. It was too stifling, sitting here in the quiet. A raging need to move and vent this awful energy inside me consumed me like a bottled-up bomb. “You were right about her.”
He let out a deep sigh and nodded. Steepling his fingers, he rested his chin on the tips. “What will you do?”
That was it. No scolding me—and why would he when I was an adult, not a child? No gloating about it—because he wasn’t a vindictive asshole with me.
He only wanted to know what I’d do now.
That question paralyzed me, though, because I truly had no plans, no reaction beyond figuring out how to breathe through the shock and let it settle with all the disappointment pooling inside me.
I can’t let her go.
“I should let her go.”
He stared me down, waiting.
“It’s imperative that I remove the threat of any spy who’d scheme against us.”
He cleared his throat and nodded.
But she didn’t. She couldn’t have.
She might have wanted to try, but I wasn’t stupid enough to leave papers out. That was why I preferred digital. And in the end, she was throwing him off with useless red herrings of supposed intel, giving him receipts about stupid shit.
“You expect me to be firm about eradicating any and all dangers to the family, to myself.”
Again, he sat there and watched me.
But she had no power to kill me.
We’d both listened to her defy Roberto and tell him that she had chosen me. But her word wasn’t dogma. Because Roberto had paid to have that mic put in that bouquet I’d ordered for her, she had indirectly been a means of his knowing how to set me up with that Rossi meeting.
“I should kick her out.”
He raised his brows. “And what, have her go back to him?” he asked. “She’s a loose thread now.”
She’s the mother of my child.
He didn’t know that yet. That part of her admission hadn’t been recorded.
I kept that secret to myself because that would change it all.
He wouldn’t kick out or order his own blood to be killed, even a bastard with an enemy.
He’d expect me to keep the child with the plan that we’d raise him or her as an Orlov.
And I can’t do that either.
I just couldn’t. I couldn’t bear to take my child from her any more than I could fathom anyone hurting her or punishing her.
“Think about it,” he advised at last. “Sleep on it.”
I heaved out a deep breath and nodded. “I intend to.” If for no other reason than to give myself a chance and some time to get over the shock and let it be processed. So I could be level-headed again.
Taking his advice to heart, I left to go home and drink myself to sleep. My mind was racing too fast to calm down for rest. I was keyed up and upset, my pulse too rapid for any sleepiness.
Before I could sit in my bar, leaving all the lights out so I could bask in the darkness and let the vodka do its magic, Oleg cleared his throat, announcing his arrival.
“What?” I cringed, recalling I owed him an apology. “You were right—”
He held up a hand, not here to gloat or give me an I told you so.
“That doesn’t matter.”
The fuck it doesn’t. You stayed smart. I didn’t. I couldn’t.
“I’m only here to ask when I should handle her.”
I furrowed my brow. “Handle her?”
“She’ll be taken out, right?”
I shook my head. No one was killing the mother of my child!
“She’s… staying with us?”
Again, I struggled to decipher whether he was asking if she’d be allowed to live, among us, or if he was questioning where she would be held.
“Yes.”
“You want her to live here?” He scoffed.
“For now,” I bit out, pouring a drink.
“But…”
I paused, glaring at him.
“From a security standpoint, wouldn’t it be wiser to eliminate her? With all the secrets she has?”
I set the bottle down with more force than I meant to. “And what fucking secrets are those?” I growled.
He watched me, not showing any reaction like the stone-faced guard and backup he was.
“Tell me what secrets she knows?” I dared him to give me one fucking example. “She didn’t find anything in that office.” I raised my glass, pointing a finger at him. “You know that. So what danger does she pose? I never told her anything about business. She never wanted to know, never asked.”
“Roberto Giovanni ordered her to poison you,” he reminded me incredulously.
“And did she?”
He pressed his lips in a firm line. “She says she won’t.”
I grunted. “Then make sure she doesn’t get her hands on any fucking poison, huh?”
“She’s staying here?”
I nodded. “Until I can decide otherwise.” I’d discuss it with Renee.
She could keep an eye on her. I didn’t want to see Sofia until I was numbed to the betrayal, this sinking chasm of pain that cut me so deeply.
But at the same time, there wasn’t a chance in hell that I’d let her go.
That I’d be able to release her while knowing she carried my child, my future—one I hadn’t counted on happening like this, with lies and deceit.
Not this stupid, made-up notion of “love”.
After Oleg left me alone, I threw my drink back and relished the burn of the liquor sliding down my throat as I poured another.