Page 68 of Filthy Lies

I make a decision, knowing Vince won’t like it.

Fine. Tomorrow. Text me when and where.

“I still think this is a terrible idea.” Dimitri adjusts his earpiece as he drives, his eyes constantly checking the mirrors.

“It’s gonna be fine, Dima.” I smooth my hand over Sofiya’s carrier, though she’s not with us. I left her with Mrs. Christianson, one of our most trusted household staff. Being separated from her makes my skin crawl, but bringing her to meet Natalie would be an even worse risk.

“The boss is going to kill me,” Dimitri mutters. “Then probably resurrect me just so he can kill me again.”

“Vince will understand.”

“Will he?”

Fair question. I’m not so sure, honestly.

When I left the compound, I told Vince I was visiting my mother—which wasn’t entirely a lie. I did stop by her room, kiss herforehead, and whisper that I’d be back soon. She was sleeping, as she does most of the time now, her body surrendering to the cancer that’s consuming it.

But afterward, instead of returning to the nursery, I met Dimitri at the service entrance. He’s one of the few guards I trust completely—a man who has put himself between me and danger more than once.

The fact that he agreed to drive me, even while protesting, tells me he sees some merit in what I’m doing.

The café Natalie selected is in Tribeca—small, nondescript, with multiple exits. Not the choice of an amateur. Dimitri parks across the street, scanning the area through polarized windows.

“Two guys on the corner,” he notes. “Another watching from that bakery. They’re hers?”

I check the positions of the men Natalie described in her text. “Yes. Security she hired.”

“Amateurs.” Dimitri scoffs. “I made the one with the donut immediately.”

“Not everyone has your level of talent, Dima.”

“Clearly.” He turns to face me. “I go in first. Check every inch. You wait here until I signal.”

“Fine.”

Dimitri enters the café, moving with the casual confidence of someone who can kill in seventeen different ways without taking his eyes off his cappuccino. Three minutes later, he signals through the window—all clear.

I enter and pause one step inside to let my eyes adjust to the dimness. The café is nearly empty. She sits at a corner table, her back to the wall, watching the door.

She looks different than at the hospital—more put together, but still not the polished girl I remember from college. Her hair is tucked under a baseball cap, her makeup minimal.

“Row.” She stands when she sees me.

“Security sweep’s already done, so save the pleasantries.” I slide into the chair opposite her. “You said you have information.”

Natalie nods, glancing at Dimitri, who hovers nearby. “Your guard dog stays?”

“My guard dog’s name is Dimitri, and yes, he stays.”

She accepts this with a small nod. “I’ve been working for Vincent, you know.”

This takes me back. “What?”

“After you disappeared—after the kidnapping—I went a little crazy.” She fiddles with her coffee cup. “I thought you were dead, and I couldn’t live with myself. So I went to Arkady. Told him I’d do anything, absolutely anything, to help find you.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Why would you? After what I did…” She trails off. “Anyway, once they found you, I just kept working. Watching. Listening. Trying to make up for years of being on the wrong side.”

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