Page 164 of Filthy Lies

We move to a quieter corner, tucked behind a column. Vince positions himself between us and Carver’s line of sight.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Vince’s voice is deadly soft, his smile never faltering for the benefit of watching eyes.

“Testing boundaries, if I had to guess,” I suggest, bouncing Sofiya gently as she coos and reaches for my necklace. “Reminding you of your arrangement.”

“He wasn’t invited.”

“Since when has that stopped the FBI?” I touch his forearm. “Remember the plan, Vince. We show him exactly what we want him to see. Nothing more.”

His eyes must be burning, because Carver spots us and his sneer turns into a wicked smile. He makes his way toward us, nodding to various guests as if he belongs here.

“Mr. and Mrs. Akopov,” he greets. I despise how his eyes linger on Sofiya, but I say nothing. “What a lovely gathering. Congratulations on the engagement of your… friends.”

“Agent Carver.” Vince’s voice could freeze hellfire. “I don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list.”

“Consider it an official visit.” Carver smiles and winks. “Just checking in on my favorite canary.”

I feel Vince tense beside me. I place my hand on his arm, squeezing gently.

“You seem to be making quite the career out of the Solovyov case,” I observe. “Front page of theTimesthis morning, wasn’t it? ‘FBI Dismantles Major Trafficking Ring.’Very impressive.”

Carver’s eyes narrow. “Just the beginning, Mrs. Akopov. We’re cleaning house. One family at a time.”

“How fortunate that legitimate businesses like ours have nothing to fear.” I smile sweetly. “Would you like a tour of our latest development plans? They’re on display in the library.”

“Another time, perhaps.” His attention shifts to Vince. “I need a word. Privately.”

Vince’s jaw clenches. “Whatever you have to say can be said in front of my wife.”

“This is a strictly confidential matter regarding our arrangement.”

“Then it can wait for normal business hours,” Vince says. “This is a family celebration.”

I study Carver’s face, noting the tension around his eyes. He didn’t come here on a whim. There’s something urgent driving this confrontation.

“It’s fine,” I tell Vince, handing Sofiya to him. “I’ll check on Anastasia. You two can use the study.”

Vince’s eyes meet mine, a silent question passing between us. I nod almost imperceptibly.

Trust me.

“Fine,” Vince says finally. “Five minutes, Carver.”

I watch them walk away. As they go, a familiar unease settles in my stomach. Carver wouldn’t risk appearing at a Bratva gathering unless he had a good reason. Something’s changed in our careful equilibrium.

I make my way to Anastasia, maintaining my hostess smile while anxiety claws at my insides.

“Your FBI friend seems agitated,” she murmurs, accepting a champagne flute from a passing server.

“He’s not my friend.” I take a glass myself but don’t drink. “And yes, something’s wrong.”

“Should we be worried?”

I watch the door to Vince’s study close behind Carver. “When it comes to the federal government, I’m always worried.”

Anastasia follows my gaze. “Perhaps your father could help. He has channels even Vincent doesn’t.”

“There’s a long way to go until they’re anything resembling friends.”

---