I swallowed hard, struggling to speak past the lump in my throat. “And you’re sure that there’s no record of the Russian’s identity?”
“No. Your dad’s a good person. He did the right thing to protect his informant.” Mike leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “What’s all this about? Are you thinking of one-upping your old man and taking on the Bratva by yourself?”
He winked at me, and I barely mustered the ghost of a smile to match his levity.
“Something like that.” I tried to joke, my voice too high and thin.
“I knew you were ambitious.” He offered me an approving nod, misreading my discomfiture. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. But if you’re looking to tackle the Bratva, you won’t find anything relevant by digging into old cases. I can put you in touch with someone at the D.A.’s office. They’ll be able to tell you more about recent cases they’ve prosecuted.”
His expression dropped to something more serious. “It’s a lot to take on, Allie, and I don’t think it will come to much. I don’t want to discourage you, but you might be better off focusing on the next steps in your studies. Right now, we don’t have a whole lot of ammunition against the Bratva. They’re not organized in the same way as the Mafia was a decade ago. Or if they are, they’ve gotten smarter about it. The world has changed, and so has organized crime.”
I managed a jerky nod and drew in a deep breath, willing the office to stop spinning at the edges of my vision. His offer to refer me to the D.A.’s office mostly slid over my consciousness. All I could think about was the fact that my dad had worked with a Russian informant, and he’d thoroughly covered it up. Mike insisted that the man couldn’t be linked to the Bratva, but what if…?
I had nothing to go on, no more records to dig into. My dad had made sure of that.
My stomach turned. No. There was no way my father had worked with the Bratva to bring down the Mafia. Max had proven to me that he was prejudiced against Russians when he’d threatened Niko to stay away from me. If the informant had been Russian, Max’s family might’ve told him there was a Bratva connection.
That family was a nest of vipers, and there was no telling what terrible lies they’d told Max. He’d been little more than a child when his father had been sent to prison. They’d probably poisoned his mind with blind hatred and prejudice since he was born, justifying their criminal lifestyle. He wouldn’t have known any better.
Even now, he believed their insane lie about my dad being involved with the Bratva.
And it was a lie. It had to be.
Max had warned me that Niko—handsome, playboy billionaire Nikolai Ivanov—was a monster. That was crazy. Niko was so beautiful that he was a little intimidating, but he wasn’t actually dangerous. His family was highly respected. His father was one of my dad’s staunchest political allies. Daddy had even appointed Mikhail to serve on the New York City Mayor’s Council of Economic Advisors.
The Ivanovs were trustworthy. My dad wouldn’t associate with them if they were involved in any criminal activities.
But what if he doesn’t know? A cruel little voice whispered through my mind.
I shook off the crazy thought. Max was getting under my skin.
This conversation with Mike hadn’t been as simple as I’d hoped, but it still didn’t implicate my father in anything nefarious. And I could easily clear up any niggling doubts about the Ivanovs.
I thanked Mike for his time and insight, and I excused myself from his office. Once I was out in the hall, I texted Niko with a dinner invite. Within minutes, we’d set a date.
In just a few hours, I would completely vindicate my father, and I could rid myself of the horrible nightmares once and for all.
ALLIE
Niko’s charming smile was devastating, but I knew better now than to be utterly dazzled by it. His beautiful mask had been firmly in place all throughout dinner, but I hadn’t pressed him to be vulnerable with me again. If he didn’t feel comfortable sharing his true feelings, I wouldn’t force the issue.
Besides, it would be easier to get information about his family through casual conversation. I didn’t want him to think I was asking anything too serious, or he might shut me down.
I wouldn’t blame him. I’d freaked out when Max told me that my dad was involved with the Bratva. I imagined Niko would feel the same if I made veiled accusations about his own father.
I’d been putting off my line of questioning, nerves getting the better of me. We’d almost finished dessert by the time I forced the words out of my mouth: “So, tell me more about your family. You were born in the States, right? But your dad grew up in Russia?”
The differences in their accents indicated as much, but it provided a casual segue into deeper questions.
Niko’s playboy mask slipped ever so slightly. “Yes, but I think he wishes he’d raised me back in Moscow. I’ve been thoroughly Americanized. He’s always trying to get me to speak Russian with him, but I insist that it’s rude in front of Americans.” His sensual lips twitched in a small frown. “He likes to talk about people right in front of their faces. He has a hell of a superiority complex.”
I fiddled with my locket, thinking of the few times I’d heard Mikhail speaking in Russian around me and my dad.
Niko’s stunning aquamarine eyes flicked to my anxious fingers on the warm gold. “Don’t worry. He’s only ever said nice things about you. He’s the one who pushed us together, remember?”
I huffed a strained laugh. “How could I forget? There was another article in the Times over the weekend. Did he plant that one, too?”
He sighed and reached out to cover my hand with his. “I’ve asked him to stop doing that. I know it makes you uncomfortable. Like I said, my father has a superiority complex. He always makes sure he gets his way, no matter what it takes. I’ll talk to him again.” The dazzling grin returned, but it seemed more genuine this time. Cocky and playful. “You’re already going out with me, so there’s no need for him to be so pushy anymore.”
He lifted my hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over my knuckles. My skin tingled beneath his touch, little sparks racing up my arm and awakening an answering sensation between my legs. I shifted in my seat, quivering on that knife’s edge of pleasure and discomfort.
He placed our intertwined hands back on the table, not releasing me from his gentle but masculine grip.
I blinked, struggling to gather my thoughts in the wake of his devastating effect on my body.
I’d been asking about his family. I needed to know more.
“So, your dad is a little ruthless.” I forced a small, teasing smile. “That must be an asset to your family business. He oversees management of your fund, right?”
A shadow flickered along Niko’s jaw, but it was gone so quickly, I might’ve imagined it.
“Yeah, he likes to check in every once in a while and micromanage. Then he goes back to enjoying his billions while the rest of us are put to work.”
I leaned toward him, determined to press on despite the hint at his discomfiture. “I guess he’s earned his semi-retirement. Is he self-made, or did your family have a successful business back in Russia, too?”