Page 74 of Filthy Lies

“Ready for your big day, little one?” I whisper, kissing her forehead.

She yawns and snuggles against me, the warmth of her tiny body grounding me in what really matters.

Vince appears beside us, one hand on Sofiya’s head, the other at the small of my back. “Let’s go introduce our daughter to God,” he says. “And remind everyone else who her father is.”

28

ROWAN

I’ve never seen so many guards disguised as guests in my life.

One of the “ushers” hands me a program with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his vigilant eyes. The tattoos on his hands are a little bit of a giveaway, too.

“Relax,” Vince murmurs against my ear. “You’re too tense.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” I hoist Sofiya in my arms. She looks like a tiny angel in her christening gown, a handkerchief-sized thing of white lace and satin ribbons.

I feel the weight of the necklace Vince gave me pressing against my collarbone. The sapphire glints in the church light.

Protection disguised as devotion. That’s Vince’s specialty.

“Everything is under control,” he assures me, one hand at the small of my back as he guides us down the aisle.

The church is beautiful. Bare stone ceilings soar and terminate in glowing stained glass windows. Flowers line the altar—calla lilies, of course. Pure white, just as Vince demanded.

Despite the sacred space, I can’t help noticing how the guests have arranged themselves. Like magnets of the same pole, they repel each other into natural groupings.

Grigor Petrov sits with his men on the left side, three rows back. My biological father looks refined in a tan suit, his silver hair combed back from his forehead. When he catches my eye, he offers a slight nod. I return it automatically.

Across the aisle, Andrei watches this exchange with hawkish intensity. Vince’s father may be under house arrest, but he’s been granted permission to attend his granddaughter’s christening.

It’s a show of Vince’s mercy, theoretically. I tend to think my husband just wants to keep his eyes on the man.

“Your father and mine look ready to tear each other apart,” I whisper to Vince.

“Let them try.” His hand presses more firmly against my back. “Arkady has men positioned to intervene.”

“Gee, that’s comforting.”

Near the front, I spot Anastasia and Daniel—or Daniil, I should say. They sit with careful space between them, though I notice their hands linked discreetly beneath a program. Their secret remains mostly intact, despite Anastasia now knowing the truth.

“They’re brave,” I note, nodding toward them.

Vince follows my gaze. “They’re reckless. But I respect it.”

As we approach the altar, a gentle hush falls over the congregation. The priest waits with a benevolent smile, prayerbook in hand. He has no idea that half the men in his church are armed and dangerous.

I wonder what God makes of all this. A sacred ceremony surrounded by sinners and killers. Hopefully, He has a sense of humor.

“The godparents?” the priest asks.

Arkady steps forward. “Just one, singular. I’m doing this mission solo. Until some lucky lady catches my eye, that is.”

I groan and laugh at the same time. Vince just shakes his head and sighs at his best friend’s antics.

“Er, right. Yes. Well…” The priest squirms awkwardly for a moment before regathering his mojo. “We are gathered today to welcome this child into God’s family,” he begins.

Sofiya wriggles in my arms and tries to tug at the necklace around my neck. I kiss her soft knuckles until she gives up the fight.

---