Page 47 of Sinful Union

I force myself to keep walking, my heels clicking against the driveway, each step fueled by sheer determination and fear. My hands tremble as I throw my purse into the car and slide into the back seat.

“Home, Mrs. Fetisova?” Ivan asks.

I simply nod, not trusting myself to speak just yet. Piotr has Ana. The words repeat in my head like a horrible chant:Piotr has Ana.Piotr has Ana.Piotr has Ana.

He took my child.

Vlad will do everything he can to find her, I know that much. But that might not be enough, not when Piotr is involved. If he’s willing to use my daughter as leverage to force me to commit murder, what else is he capable of? When Piotr digs his claws in, he doesn’t let go. He now has my daughter in an undisclosed location.

A shuddering breath escapes me as I grip the door. Pavel doesn’t know about Ana, and telling him under these circumstances feels wrong. But what other choice do I have? I’m alone in this. I have no power. No moves to make. I blink rapidly, pressing my fingers to my temples, trying to fight the panic rising in my chest.

Breathe. Focus. Think.

The city is a blur as we speed down the streets. I barely register the buildings and lights flashing by. The car turns a corner, things becoming clearer as I spot a woman walking alone. Recognition slams into me: It’s the woman from Piotr’s office. The one he so carelessly discarded and left scrambling for her clothes. Why the hell is she walking?

Frowning, I glance out the back window. She looks lost.Piotr didn’t even bother to get her a ride home. Typical. What a prick. The rage that had only just started to settle flares again for a new reason. “Ivan,” I call up front.

“Yes ma’am?”

“We’re picking someone up,” I tell him, the decision already made.

Silence. Then a heavy sigh. “That’s not a good idea.”

“We’re doing it anyway.”

Ivan exhales sharply. “I’m calling it in. Your husband needs to know.”

“Fine, but pull over.”

Ivan pulls the car to the curb. I lower the window as soon as the woman approaches.“Need a ride?” I ask. She freezes and her eyes widen in surprise, relief flashing across her face.But the relief is quickly tempered with worry when she realizes who I am.

“You’re his sister.”

“I am. And I can’t apologize enough for his behavior. I assure you we were raised better than that.”

She bites her lip, glancing away. This young woman, whatever her name might be, is stunning. Sharp, Slavic features, deep green eyes, full lips. Her shape is curvy, ample in all the spots where men like women to be ample.

Finally, she nods, hurrying around to the other side of the car.

“Thank you,” she says as she climbs inside, clutching her coat tighter around herself. She looks shaken. I grab a few tissues from the center console and offer them to her.

“I’m sorry my brother’s such a dick.”

The woman allows herself a laugh, dabbing at her eyes.

“I’m Kat,” I offer my hand.

She hesitates but takes it. “Darya.”

I watch Darya from the corner of my eye. Her shoulders are curled inward, her hands twisting the now crumpled tissues I gave her. She looks fragile, on the verge of falling apart completely.

She catches me staring and offers a weak smile. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m just not used to this.”

“Used to what?” I make sure to keep my voice gentle as I speak.

“Kindness.”

I hesitate, wondering how to approach her without scaring her off. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Darya. So, tell me about yourself. Do you live around here?”

---