Chapter 14
Fourteen
“I just want to confirm again that you’re comfortable talking here.” The dark-haired older woman smiled gently at Sofie.
Sofie, now wearing a tracksuit Colette had gone out and purchased, nodded.
“And you want Agent Leonard here?”
Sofie twisted in her seat to look over her shoulder at him, where he sat in a chair against the wall. “Yes.”
Andrei offered her a reassuring smile. At least, he hoped it was reassuring.
The dark-haired woman—Agent Baas, a Dutch Europol agent currently on rotation in Interpol—glanced at him. She was an expert interviewer, holding both specialized certificates and degrees in therapy and victim interaction.
“Unless he doesn’t want to be here,” Sofie said slowly.
Fuck. Clearly his reassuring smile wasn’t reassuring.
“I want to be here if you want me here, Angel.”
Agent Baas’s eye twitched at the pet name. She’d asked for a briefing on Andrei’s relationship to Sofie, and he’d been a coward and said it was classified as it related to the Alibi initiative. That was also why they were on the ground floor of the building, in what had probably once been the security office but now served as a cozy meeting space. He and Landon had hauled down chairs, the decadent things looking entirely out of place with the industrial carpeting and beige walls.
Sofie studied him for a moment, then turned back to the woman who’d driven out to conduct the interview.
“I want him here.”
The question was why. Why did she want him here. If it was just a matter of someone familiar, it would make much more sense for Colette to be here.
Maybe it was because he'd shown up right after she was attacked, which slotted him into “rescuer” in her head. Except he’d then arrested her.
And maybe it was because of the connection they forged that first night. He'd been the first person to ever touch her intimately. Had he known that, he would have done every damn thing differently, but he hadn't. He'd put her through intense situations, then given her emotional whiplash. It made sense that she would feel some kind of attachment to him, given everything that had happened.
What made less sense was his attachment to her. Because he did feel something for this woman.
He felt protective even before seeing that message from her father.
The rage and fear that he had gripped him when he saw those men standing over her in her bedroom was unlike anything Andrei had ever experienced before. The acuity of the emotion was terrifying.
And beyond any of that, he just wanted to spend time with her. He loved the seeming contradiction of her. She was both blunt and shy. She blushed easily, and yet spoke her mind. She was funny, smart…
And deeply sexually submissive.
Andrei’s teeth ached as he clenched his jaw, fighting to push away that thought.
“I’m going to start the recording.” Agent Baas leaned over and clicked on the small video camera she’d set up on the counter still mounted to one wall.
The agent went through the standard start of interview protocols, getting all the necessary consents on the record.
Sofie answered each question while showing no visible emotion.
“Do you understand why we’re conducting this interview, Ms. Vermeer?”
“You think my father is forcing me to work, and that’s illegal.”
“Forcing anyone to work is illegal. But tell me about your father. What’s his name?”
Sofie shook her head, her expression flickering. “No. I won’t talk about him.”
“That’s fine. You mentioned to Agent Leonard that you were adopted. Do you remember your birth family?”
“No. I was adopted when I was young.”
“How young?”
“Maybe six or seven.”
“And you have no memories before that?” Agent Baas asked gently.
Sofie shook her head and Andrei winced. Lack of memories was rarely a sign of a happy childhood.
“Do you remember where you were born?”
Sofie shook her head.
“After you were adopted, where did you live?”
“My house.”
“The house you were at earlier?”
“Yes.”
“And who did you live with. You mentioned your father. Did you have a second parent?”
“I had a nanny. Father traveled for work, so he hired nannies to live with me full time.”
“And where did you go to school?”
“At home.”
Agent Baas’s brows rose. “That is not very common. Exceptions that allow homeschooling are rare. Do you know why you were homeschooled?”
Sofie hesitated. “My nannies acted as my teachers.”
“There’s more to going to school than just the academics. School when we are young is how we learn to make friends, to interact with other people, and the world around us. Did you have any friends?”
“A few. I attended art classes, painting classes. My father got special permission for me to attend classes at the university when I was still young.”
“I saw that in your file. You were only eleven and in an art residency with artists three and four times your age.”
“Some of my first classes were with other children.”
Agent Baas clasped her hands and leaned forward. “You were a child prodigy in art. Based on some articles published about you during that two-year residency, it sounds like you see the world just a little differently from the rest of us, and that makes you a, quite literally, world-class painter.”
“Thank you.” Sofie sounded fine, but Andrei was looking at her feet. Colette had gotten her slippers, and from the way the soft toes of those slippers were bunched, he was sure she was nervously curling her toes.
“So why is it that I couldn’t find any mention of gallery shows or auctions of your work?”
“I only sell to private collectors.”
“And why is that?”
“It’s better that way.”
“And who decided that?”
“My father handles the business side.”
Agent Baas shot Andrei a grim look. He knew what she was thinking. She was thinking that Sofie was entirely unaware she was a victim of a very serious crime, and that, even if they explained, she might not understand.
But Andrei’s thoughts were leaning a different direction. He studied Sofie's profile, turning over every piece of information he had about her.
Agent Baas asked several more questions, and Sofie answered each of them without really giving any information.
“Sofie,” he barked. “Enough.”
She looked back over her shoulder. “Enough what?”
He arched a brow…and she blushed.
Agent Baas sat back, brows raised as she glanced between them.
Andrei rose from his chair in the corner. He very deliberately turned off the camera, stopping the recording, then leaned against the counter.
“Agent Leonard, we?—”
He ignored the other agent. “Who is he?”
“Who?”
“Your father. He’s someone powerful enough that you don’t dare leave.”
She shook her head. “It’s not safe to leave.”
“Because your father has you creating forgeries for dangerous people. And he’s one of them. I’m betting you could make yourself a passport if you wanted to, because we know Colette had several.”
Sofie only smiled.
He wanted to kiss her and then put her over his knee and then kiss her again.
“Sofie,” he barked.
“Yes?” She seemed entirely unruffled.
“You know that what you’ve experienced is human trafficking. You were adopted, relocated, and forced to work. That’s a crime.”
Sofie merely gazed back at him, but there was a faint blush of shame on her cheeks.
“You clearly had access to the internet, and read all sorts of things.”
Now the blush was something else. That’s what he’d wanted, to shift her attention away from the feeling of shame so many victims felt.
“The man you call father adopted you because of your artistic talent and put you to work forging paintings.”
She raised her chin and held his gaze but didn’t speak.
“You’re smart enough and skilled enough to leave if you wanted to. But you haven’t, and I know why.”
“I would be very surprised if you do.”
“Your father is a member of law enforcement, isn’t he?”
Agent Baas sucked in a shocked breath, but didn’t say anything.
“Someone who handles art crimes,” Andrei went on. “Is he with Carabinieri Art Squad, Europol cultural crime?”
Andrei watched Sofie as he spoke. He wasn’t looking for confirmation he was right—he was sure he was right. He was watching for fear, because fear and a certainty that she could never get away was the only thing that made how she’d behaved back at her house make sense.
But a small line appeared between her brows—a frown of confusion.
“No. He isn’t with any agency or police.”
Andrei blinked. He’d been so sure…
“Then why do you stay?” He dropped into a crouch in front of her. “Angel, given the timing and what happened, I think your father is the person who sent those men into your house to scare you.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No. He wouldn’t risk hurting me.”
“Wouldn’t risk it because you’re a valuable asset?”
She nodded, but didn’t meet his gaze.
“Maybe I am wrong. What did the men say?"
“They said that they would have taken me at the museum if you hadn't kidnapped me first."
“Excuse me?” Agent Baas interjected.
“No, it’s fine, we had sex afterward,” Sofie said bluntly.
Andrei closed his eyes with a wince.
“Agent Leonard...”
“I know,” he said to the older woman. “It’s…messy. And getting messier.”
Andrei looked back at Sofie and saw the glint in her eye. She'd done that on purpose.
Kiss her. Spank her. Kiss her again.
It was a good plan.
One he couldn’t act on, for so many, many reasons.
“Sofie,” he growled. “What did the men who came into your bedroom say?”
She quickly recounted their threats, and what she said only confirmed his theory.
“Sofie, based on what you’re saying, I don't think you were in any real danger of being a kidnapped the way they implied. They were just there to scare you into compliance.”
He swallowed his anger and held out a hand to her. Sofie’s eyes widened as she placed her fingers in his. They were cold and trembling a little.
“Your father clearly monitors your security system, realized that you not only left but were gone overnight, and decided to bring you back in line by sending in men to hurt you. Scare you.”
“No. That's not it.” For the first time, she seemed unsure.
“If they could come into your home, right into your bedroom, why wouldn't they just kidnap you?”
“Because it's not allowed.”
“Yes,” he said slow slowly. “Kidnapping is not allowed. Anywhere or at any time.”
Her lips twitched with a smile and she opened her mouth, no doubt to say something about the way he hauled her out of the museum, so he shot her a hard look. Her mouth closed, sadness touching her features, and he felt like even more of an asshole than usual.
“The point is that there's no magical barrier around your house. If there was, they wouldn’t have been able to get in there.”
“Not a magical barrier, but it is…” Sofie looked away, brows drawn together. “It is…sanctus.”
Her eyes widened as she jerked her head around and met his gaze while yanking her hand out of his.
“I don’t speak Dutch,” Andrei said slowly.
“That wasn’t Dutch.” Agent Baas leaned in, studying Sofie. “That was Latin.”
Sofie winced, looking down at her hands.
“Sofie, are you saying that your house is holy ground? Like a church?” Agent Baas asked.
Her utter stillness was confirmation.
Holy ground…
Andrei was so rarely surprised, but again and again, Sofie surprised him.
He pushed to stand, taking a step back as he processed. Maybe she was in a religious cult of some kind. Often cults used drugs and smuggling to finance their operations…
Then an entirely different, and somehow worse, idea came to him.
“Sofie…who is your father?”
She sighed, shoulders slumping a little. “I can’t tell you.”
“I’ll protect you,” he vowed, meaning every word.
She looked at Agent Baas, and he could tell from the set of her jaw she wasn't going to say anything.
“Agent Baas, give us the room.”
The other agent hesitated only a moment before getting up and leaving.
Andrei waited, hoping that being alone was enough, but after the click of the door closing behind the other agent, Sofie was silent.
But then she looked up and their gazes met.
His angel's eyes were a beautiful blue, but not one shade. Her eyes were the sea at sunset or dawn when the water, sky, and horizon were all distinct shades of blue.
Her lips parted as she let out a soft breath. He saw the tension leave her neck as if she finally let go of a heavy weight.
She was going to tell him who her father was. Not because he was an Interpol agent. Not because he'd been in that tree to catch her as she made her ridiculous escape attempt.
She was going to tell him because she trusted him.
“My father is the prefect of the Vatican Secret Archive.”