Page 26 of Echoes of Sin

“You are doing well, Ilya. I am proud. Your father would be proud.” It was the same script as each phone call, only now I wondered if he was sabotaging me to make sure I never did too well here in America.

Paranoia, my father used to tell me, was part of being in the bratva. The constant worry that someone was after your seat and the things they would do to make it theirs. He’d warned me about being careful with who I trusted, what women I allowed into my bed and my life, new friends and even old friends.

“If you need help with anything, you can count on Uncle Oleg. Always.”

“Of course,” I answered robotically. “You have been a great resource for me, Oleg.”

“I want you to succeed, Ilya. It makes the Kuznetsov bratva stronger, more powerful.”

That made sense. Any faction of the bratva that succeeded meant we all did. More money, more power, and more influence meant we were all in a better position no matter where in the world we operated.

“Any problems?”

“None that I haven’t been able to handle,” I informed him.

Oleg laughed. “Never be afraid to make a point, Ilya. Swift and brutal, just so that others know that you can.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But now I must go. Weekend nights are busier than usual, and I need to make a few appearances.”

“Of course. Business comes first.”

The call ended and I felt mildly better about things where Oleg was concerned. Perhaps I was being paranoid, and the source of my problems was closer to home? Though like Dmitri, I did not think that any of my men would betray me. However, Brooke’s warnings were still at the forefront of my mind. Someone was stealing from me, which meant they were stealing from the bratva.

It would not go unpunished.

Chapter Sixteen

Brooke

“I don’t want to go to school today!” Karina whined, and stomped her feet, two things she hadn’t done since she was a toddler, which told me something bigger was going on with my little girl.

It also meant the coffee I just poured was probably going to sit there and get cold. “Come here, Karina.”

She froze in the doorway to the kitchen, as if she wasn’t sure if she was in trouble or not.

“Come here, Karina. Please.”

She shuffled across the floor and stopped in front of me. “Yes, Mom?”

I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tight. “What’s going on, honey? You know you can talk to me about anything.”

It took her a minute, but she eventually hugged me back, wrapping her little arms tight around my neck. “There’s a daddy-daughter dance at school and I really want to go. I’m the best dancer,” she insisted. “The best. Only, I don’t have a daddy. All I have is Uncle Ryan, and I love him lots, but he’s not my dad.” The last few words came out on a sob that hit me like a donkey kick straight to the chest.

I rubbed her back and made soothing sounds until her tears had settled enough that she could breathe. “I’m so sorry, Karina.” I was sorrier than she would ever know that I hadn’t been able to give her the father she deserved.

She pulled back and stared up at me, so many features from Ilya that it hurt to look at her. “Maybe we can find him? I can tell him about the dance, and he’ll want to go with me.” The hope and desperation in her blue eyes were enough to break my heart all over again.

I was at a loss about what to do. Her father was here, back in the US and back in Winter Valley. Theoretically, he could attend the dance with her, but that would require me to tell Ilya he’d left me pregnant, which I had no intention of doing. Ever.

Which probably made me the world’s worst mom.

I accepted that because I didn’t know Ilya anymore. Sure, I hadn’t made an effort to get to know him, but something was off about him and his life. I didn’t know what because I didn’t allow myself to get too involved in the lives of my clients, and because I didn’t want to know.

“Sweetheart, you know what I told you about him. Your daddy went far away, and I lost contact. Not every kid has a father, what about your friend Ana, she doesn’t have a dad too.”

My daughter stared at me with Ilya’s eyes. The gaze as scrutinizing as his, “Ana’s daddy got sick and died. That’s why he’s not there.”

I gave a long sigh, it looked like the talk I was hoping to put off for a few more years was going to happen sooner than I had anticipated. She might have only been seven, but Karina was a smart kid. “Let me think about it,” I finally told my daughter, the universal parental language for I hope you forget about this after a few days so I don’t have to do anything about it.

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