Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
KIRA
An hour later, accompanied by Roman and a small contingent of Maxim's men, I arrive at the high-end boutique in central Moscow Liza recommended.
Despite the size of my entourage, I bet Liza has come up with a way for us to talk privately.
She’s the think-ahead type, balancing my spontaneity.
My aunt used to tell me, "You leap without looking, and Liza's there to build the bridge under your feet.” While I could be impulsive, Liza’s always been my level-headed anchor—the one who organized our group study sessions at school and wouldn’t let me drink too much at parties.
We enter the store to find Liza waiting. Attentive assistants flit about her, and with a sigh of relief, I realize she had the foresight to close the store to the public.
“Kira.” She rises and wraps her arms around me, before pulling back and taking in the handsome man by my side. Her eyebrows raise in a silent question.
“Liza, this is Roman Vasiliev, one of Maxim’s—” I’m about to say guard dogs when he steps forward, his eyes running curiously over my friend.
“An associate of Maxim’s,” is all he says. “And now personal guard to Mrs. Belov.”
“Nope. Please never call me that again,” I hiss.
He ignores me completely. “And this is the lovely Elizaveta Ivanova, I take it.”
He sticks his hand out in greeting, and Liza eyes it like it’s a dead fish before giving it a cursory shake.
“I’m acquainted with your father and fiancé,” he adds. “But I only know you by reputation.”
Liza's eyes narrow. “Yes, well, don’t believe everything you hear.”
When I tilt my head at Liza, she gives me a subtle shake of her head. Oh-kay. Clearly, I’ve been out of the gossip loop in this city for far too long.
"So, shall we get to shopping?” Roman rubs his hands together like he’s been waiting all day for the pleasure of retail therapy.
I pull myself to my full height of five feet, two inches. “We will. As in, Liza and myself. I suggest you and your men go grab some coffee or the blood of angels, whatever it is that you drink, and leave us in peace.”
“No can do.” He shrugs apologetically. “My job is to keep you safe from harm, and I can’t do that on a coffee break.”
When I bristle at his words, Liza mumbles under her breath, “Who’s going to keep you safe when you piss off Kira?”
Roman can’t be swayed. I’m sure Maxim gave him explicit instructions to watch my every move—whether to keep me safe or because he doesn’t trust me. Likely both. But it’s clear Roman isn’t going anywhere.
I gesture around us. “Do what you need to. We have some shopping to do.”
Roman settles on one of the nearby settees, being fawned over by the female staff desperate to offer him a cappuccino, while his men fan out throughout the store.
Liza pulls me deeper into the boutique, where the evening wear is hung in elegant rows. When we’re out of earshot, she points at my wedding ring and whisper-hisses, “Explain!”
“Keep it down,” I say, busying my hands with rummaging through the racks.
When one of the many store assistants comes over, I scare them away with a sharp shake of my head. I dare a glimpse upwards and see Roman is already on his phone while the other guards are out of earshot. So I tell Liza exactly how and why I got myself into this mess.
She scrunches her forehead. "I still don't understand why you had to marry him.”
“It was the only way to get close enough to figure out what role he actually played in Masha’s murder,” I whisper. “And to get my revenge if it comes to that.”
Liza’s eyes go wide, and she practically drops the skirt she’s been admiring, staring at me like I’m mentally unbalanced. Which, frankly, maybe I am.
“I love purple on you,” I say loudly. “It really brings out your—”
“You’re going to get yourself killed. I know how much your aunt meant to you and how devastating it’s been, but you have to let it go and get on with your life. Go back to New York. Go back to… Well, I don’t know what, but leave here and forget about what my drunkass father told you.”
“It’s too late.” I hold up the rock weighing down my fingers. “I have to see this plan through. I understand if you can’t help me, but I’m not changing my mind.”
"Jesus," she curses, shaking her head.
I get a sense of déjà vu, but this time, we're not talking about sneaking out of the window to get drunk with the boys at the adjacent boarding school. This is life or death. Maybe it's unfair of me to involve Liza, but I only need information from her—I'd never put her life at risk.
Glancing at Roman, I notice his attention has shifted from his phone to us, which is a bad sign. I quickly grab a few pieces off the hanger and pull Liza into a changing room with me.
I hear Roman’s chuckle on the other side of the door. “Two of you in one changeroom. Is that a girl thing?”
“Yes,” I bark. “In case I need help with a zipper. And so she can give her opinion without me leaving here.”
“I actually might have a valuable opinion. You know, I’m often told that I dress very dapper—”
Liza, looking as intense as I've ever seen her, wrenches open the door, stopping him mid-sentence.
"I'm sure you know exactly what's appropriate for Kira, but unless you can tell me the designer on the latest cover of Vogue or the shade of green that's selling out the runways right now, we don’t need you to weigh in. "
I'm stunned for a moment, impressed by my usually restrained friend's forceful response. I brace for a sharp retort.
"Sheesh, touchy," Roman mutters before wandering away.
“Girl, that was amazing,” I say after she shuts the door, but she’s still focused on our earlier conversation.
She drags her eyes up to meet mine and rubs her temples. “I don’t understand,” she says. “If Maxim is Alyona’s father, why did he wait until she was in her twenties to contact her?”
I release a weighty sigh because it’s complicated, but if I’m going to be asking for her help, she deserves to know the truth—all of it.
"Maxim and Alyona's mom had a fling. She was older, married to Aly's dad, but it happened and nobody knew. Aly's family moved to the States when she was a baby, and Maxim never learned he had a kid.” I pause, letting the gravity of the story sink in. “He discovered Aly was his daughter when she was a teen. He wrote to Aly’s mom, and they made a deal. Maxim would stay away until she turned twenty-five so she could have a normal life. After that, all bets were off.”
Liza looks at me wide-eyed. “That's a crazy story. But it also means Maxim’s your best friend's father. Are you really willing to kill him?”
I take a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Aly hates him, but regardless, if Maxim was involved in Masha’s death, he should be held accountable. I don’t care who he is or how powerful and connected he may be.”
That’s the problem—men like him never answer for their sins. But he will answer to me, if it’s the last thing I do.
“Nothing is worth dying for. Nothing. Masha wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”
“Maybe not,” I acknowledge. “But I can’t let it go.” I’m willing to accept however this is going to end. Even if the end is me staring down the barrel of a gun. I've crossed a line, and there's no turning back now.
Liza studies me closely, like she’s trying to get a read on my mental state. I stare back at her, unflinching, because I’m as clear-headed as I’ve felt in years.
“Fine.” She throws her hands in the air. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”
I smile gratefully. “I need to talk to your father. Can you arrange a meeting or something? I won’t drag you into this more than necessary, but I need to know what he knows.”
She shakes her head. "He's in Poland now and hard to reach. But when he's back, I'll try. He might not even remember what he said."
“He’ll remember,” I assure her. He better. “By the way, do you know what the story is with Maxim’s first wife?”
She blows out a breath that flutters her bangs.
“Honestly, she disappeared one day. Whether he had her killed or sent her packing, no one really knows.” Liza chews on her bottom lip as if considering what she’s going to say next.
“It’s rumored they had a child together, but I can’t say if it’s true. ”
“A child? Aly’s the only child he’s ever spoken of. But he wants me to bear his heirs.” Liza crosses herself, and I can’t help but grin. “It’s okay. I negotiated a one-month delay on any relations.”
One month should be long enough for me to figure out Maxim’s involvement in my aunt’s death, but if it’s not… Well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
“Girl, you need to get yourself on birth control,” she nearly shouts. “Birth control he doesn’t know about!”
“Shhh, would you keep it down?”
She’s not wrong. If for some reason I’m still around after a month, I need to ensure I don’t get knocked up by him.
I can blame his geriatric sperm for me not getting pregnant.
Except, instinctively, I know Maxim’s sperm is far from inferior.
I bet he has super sperm; one look from him would impregnate any sad, unsuspecting female in his midst. But I won’t be one of them.
“Do you know a doctor who could get me the pill?”
"I know one. Give me some time, and I can get it for you." Her eyes scan the small changing room stuffed with designer outfits. “We need to pick out a new wardrobe for you.” Liza tosses a sparkly black off-the-shoulder dress at me. “Start with this one.”
As I zip up the dress, I gesture around the room. “Buy whatever you like. In fact, buy whatever you don’t like. I have Maxim’s Amex, and I intend to do some real damage.”
Liza quirks her lips. “You think he’ll notice?”
“He will if we head to the Bugatti dealership after this and get matching convertibles.”
Liza snorts. “Sounds like a plan.”
When the dress is all zipped up, I raise my arms and spin in a what-do-you-think gesture.
She raises her eyebrows. “Smoking hot. We better get you on birth control sooner than later.”