Page 175 of Filthy Promises

Vince looks pained. “We keep tabs on all our enemies, Rowan. Especially the Petrovs.” He meets my eyes. “When your application crossed my desk—the right age, the right background—I had my people look into it. The DNA match was conclusive.”

“So you knew from the beginning.” I try to ignore the tears welling in my eyes. “Every moment between us—the first time I walked in on you, the promotion, all of it—you knew.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“And what was the plan, exactly? Seduce me? Use me to get to Grigor somehow?”

“No.” He stands again, suddenly agitated. “There was no plan, not at first. Just surveillance. Standard procedure.”

“And Natalie? Was that standard procedure, too?”

He has the decency to look uncomfortable. “We needed someone close to you. To monitor any potential contact with the Petrovs.”

“My best friend,” I whisper, the betrayal cutting deeper than I thought possible. “The person I told everything to. My pregnancy. My feelings for you. All of it.”

“She was already on payroll before I even met you,” he admits. “It was… precautionary.”

“Precautionary.” I repeat the word like it’s poison. It might as well be, given what it’s doing to our relationship. “And whatabout us? What about everything that’s happened between us? Was thatprecautionary, too?”

“No.” He steps toward me again, and this time, I’m too numb to back away. “What happened between us wasn’t planned. It wasn’t strategic. It was real.”

“How can I possibly believe that?” My voice is barely audible now. “How can I believe anything you say?”

“Because I never lied about loving you.” His eyes—those impossible blue eyes that once made my heart race—now fill me with nothing but venom and doubt. “Everything else, yes. Your identity. The surveillance. But not how I feel.”

“And when exactly did the great Vincent Akopov develop feelings for his enemy’s daughter? When did I go from being a security risk to being the love of your life?” The bitterness in my voice surprises even me.

“I don’t know.” He growls low in his throat with frustration. “It wasn’t a single moment. It was everything. You stood up to me. You refused to be intimidated. You looked at me like you saw past all the bullshit.”

“Or maybe that’s just what you wanted to see,” I say quietly. “In reality, it sounds like you saw an opportunity. The perfect revenge against Grigor Petrov—seduce his daughter, knock her up, bind her to you forever.”

“Can you really think that of me?”

“I don’t know what the hell to think anymore, Vince.” I move toward the closet, tearing out clothes at random. “I don’t know what’s real and what’s part of whatever game you’re playing.And you know what? I’ve decided I don’t care to stick around and figure it out.”

“Where are you going?” He watches me dress with growing alarm.

“Away from you, for starters.” I pull on jeans and a sweater, not giving a damn that they don’t match.

“Rowan, please.” He reaches for me, but I jerk away. “It’s not safe for you out there. Especially now that you know the truth.”

“Worried I’ll run to Daddy Petrov with Akopov secrets?”

“Worried Grigor will find out about you and the baby,” Vince corrects, his face grave. “If he learns who you are—what you mean to me—he’ll use you against both of us.”

“So I’m a liability to everyone.” I laugh mirthlessly. “The Akopovs, the Petrovs… Does anyone in this fucked-up world see me as a person and not a chess piece?”

I grab my purse, shoving my phone and wallet inside.

“Don’t go.” His voice drops, almost pleading. “Let me explain everything. All of it.”

“I think you’ve explained quite enough.” My hand goes instinctively to my stomach, where our child grows, oblivious to the chaos surrounding it. “I need to see my mother. Myrealmother—not whatever spy or plant you’ve arranged to pose as her.”

“Margaret is your real mother,” he says quietly. “That part was never a lie. And she doesn’t know I’m aware of your identity. She doesn’t know much herself.”

“How generous of you to allow her that illusion.” I head for the door, then pause, a horrible thought occurring to me. “Is her treatment even real? Or was that just another way to control me?”

“The cancer is real.” His face darkens. “I would never use that against you.”

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