Chapter 27
ROMAN
“Istill cannot believe how much hot sauce you put on it. That was not necessary.”
Amalie smiles from the passenger seat. “It was, actually.”
“If you aren’t careful, you’ll reach a point where even hot sauce is not enough. You’ll need to put hot coals on your tongue just to feel something.”
She arches her eyebrows. “Roman, was that a joke?”
“I can joke now and then.”
“You should do it more often. It suits you.”
We’re making our way back home after dinner. Surprisingly, I feel satisfied.
“So, rate your first hot chicken experience.”
“It was good.”
“Just good?”
“Very good. And honestly, it was nice to eat someplace humble.”
The memory of Aunt Zina’s was the first of many to break through tonight. Others rushed in, as if being in an eatery like that had broken down a wall I’d built around memories of my youth. It was strange but nice.
“Right,” she says. “Sometimes a place like that is exactly what you need. Along with half of my mac and cheese you ate.”
“That was very good too.”
“I know, that’s why I got it. But next time, get your own.” She winks.
“I will. Or should I say, I’ll have you order it for me.”
Amalie laughs. “There you go. You’re learning.”
When we pull in front of the mansion, Andrei and Sasha step out. Andrei takes the keys to pull the car into its spot in the garage while Sasha rushes toward me like a small missile. I barely have time to brace myself before he slams into my legs.
“Papa!”
I scoop him up, planting a kiss on his forehead. “There’s my little Sashenka.”
“You were gone too long,” he says with a small pout.
“Only a little while. I was getting dinner with Miss Amalie. Did you behave?”
“Mostly.” He follows up his words with a charming, sheepish grin.
“He was fine,” Andrei says as he returns from parking the car. “This young man couldn’t cause trouble if he wanted to.”
“We might have to change that,” I say. “No boyhood is complete without a little mischief.”
“Careful what you wish for,” Amalie says as she ruffles Sasha’s hair. “Plenty of parents would kill for a little man as easy and sweet as him.”
“I’m not sweet,” Sasha retorts.
That gets a laugh out of all of us. Emotion swells in my chest. For a fleeting moment, with Sasha in my arms and all of us joking and laughing together, Amalie feels like she truly belongs—
Like a family.
Through the laughter, I hear the approaching sirens. Andrei shifts instantly. His hand moves—not for his gun but for his phone. Two black-and-white vehicles roll through the still-open gate, lights flashing, sirens quieted. Behind them, a white sedan with a blue emblem on the door.
Child Protective Services.
The moment ends, reality snapping into focus.
I lower Sasha to the ground, keeping a hand on his shoulder. “Inside. Now.”
“What’s happening?” Amalie asks. Her smile is long gone.
“Inside,” I repeat with a sharper tone.
The front of the house erupts into controlled chaos. Security moves, staff makes themselves scarce, and Andrei is barking orders in Russian to legal counsel on his phone.
A woman in a pantsuit steps forward, badge visible. A man next to her clutches a clipboard like it’s a weapon he’s ready to fire. Cops step out of their police cruisers, hanging back, peering at the estate.
“Miss,” I say, standing between her and the house. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Mr. Barinov. I’m Sheila Ford with Chicago CPS.” She hands me a business card. I glance at it, then tuck it into my coat pocket. “We’ve received an anonymous report expressing concern for a child residing at this address.”
An anonymous report. Of course.
“What sort of report?”
She runs down the list. “Firearms, criminal activity, unsafe environment.” I listen without interrupting, knowing that disputing whatever she says won’t do me any favors.
“This is bullshit,” Amalie mutters under her breath.
Miss Ford either doesn’t hear her or does but chooses not to say anything. I flash Amalie a quick look, letting her know without words that she needs to keep quiet.
“We’re going to take a brief look around, if you don’t mind,” Miss Ford says.
It’s a perfunctory statement. It’s not like I can tell her no without risking serious consequences.
Sheila and a few of her associates that rode with the cops enter the house and fan out.
The cops have no warrant and they hang back, looking like they’re just itching for me to do something so they can arrest me.
My jaw clenches and my muscles tense. I have a damn good idea who’s behind this.
I look at Amalie. “This is because of your brother, isn’t it?” I accuse, my voice low so the cops don’t hear.
She snaps her head toward me. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb. This is his way in.”
Her eyes flash. “You think I did this?”
“I think someone close to you did. Fucking CPS is in my house!”
She stares at me with the same sort of shock I’d expect as if I’d struck her. “Roman, you can’t be serious. There’s no way I’d put Sasha, or you, for that matter, through something like this.”
The CPS agents are moving around inside. I end the conversation with Amalie and hurry into the house. Sasha’s in the entry hall with Andrei. The poor boy clearly has no idea what’s happening.
The team of a half-dozen agents are poking around, checking rooms, opening drawers, writing notes in their little books. I’m not careless. Everything that could potentially incriminate me is either off-site or hidden in places where they’d never think to look.
Sasha stays close. Amalie says nothing.
After approximately thirty minutes of searching, Miss Ford and the agents gather in the entryway. They found nothing because there is nothing to find.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Barinov.” She hands me an official form and leaves. The cops follow, their eyes on me as they file into their cruisers.
Sasha presses his face into my coat, confused and frightened. I kneel down and hold him tight, my jaw locked, rage simmering.
I glance at the form. “Unsubstantiated. No further action at this time,” I read aloud.
The house is quiet again.
My gaze flicks over to Amalie and I wonder if I made a huge mistake by accusing her. She doesn’t look at me.
I don’t stop her when she walks away. As she disappears down the hall, I realize that whatever this fragile thing is that she and I are building just took a direct hit.