Tangled Innocence

Chapter 5 Episode 5

For another, he’s still my boss.

And whichever way this paternity result goes, I need to keep this job.

“Hand me your phone,” Dmitri commands abruptly.

“I’m giving you my personal number. If anything comes up—and I meananything at all—you call me.”

“Um, I thought you wanted a paternity test first?” I say, blinking stupidly.“We don’t know if the baby is yours yet.”

He lets out a little sigh that has my nether regions tingling. “Until we do,I’m working under the assumption that it’s mine. And I always take care ofwhat is mine.”

Mine. What a word. It morphs into something more and more terrifyingevery time one of us says it.

That tingle spreads slowly until it blankets all of me and sinks lower, lower,lower. It’s a dangerous feeling. But what’s even more dangerous is thethought that comes with it. As I stare at this infuriating, gorgeous, bossy,protective, rich, arrogant, too-full-of-contradictions-to-be-summed-up-in-one-adjective man, all my mind can conjure up is…

As far as baby daddies go, I could have done a lot worse.

My mood is bad enough as it is. Seeing this human tracking device lurkingin the foyer of my penthouse does not help at all.

“Dante,” I spit at him. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“I brought over some Italian spices for Miss Zanetti, courtesy of DonZanetti.”

My Italian has improved over the years, but Don Vittorio Zanetti speaks hisown kind of language. “Italian spices” is code. Translation: I’ve been sent tocheck on the Italian princess to make sure this living arrangement sticks.

I drop my coat into the vanishing cupboard and stride past Dante, who hasthe gall to follow me into the main living room without invitation. This isthe second time this week he’s stopped by. I’ have enough spices to last mea f*****g lifetime.

Bee twirls into the living room from the arched doorway on the right. She’swearing a slinky silver bathrobe cinched at the waist. “Baby! I thought thatwas you.”

She gallivants into my arms, ignoring Dante, who stands off to the side,blending in with the furniture. She drops a peck on my cheek and slides herhands over my chest. “Hm, I love when you come back home smelling ofsweat and money.”

Usually, I’m better at playing along with her little charade. But today, myhead is throbbing and my patience is wearing thin.

I twist her around and point with my chin. “Your father’s lapdog is here.”

She laughs. “Yes, I know. I’ve already thanked him for the spices, and yethe hasn’t left. The only reason I can think of for why he’s still here is to seeyou, my love. I think he likes you more than me.”

“That would be a first.” Dragging my eyes up to face the pale, scrawny manin front of me, I ask, “Well? Do you have anything to say to me, Dante?”

Those dispassionate, watery blue eyes of his betray nothing, but his Adam’sapple bobs up and down. “As I said, I only wanted to bring you DonZanetti’s regards, Mr. Egorov.”

Bee tilts her head to the side and coos at Dante like he’s a baby. “Aw, howsweet. See, Dmitri? Daddy likes you, too.”

I grit my teeth and keep my distaste hidden behind an emotionless straightface. “Consider his regards received and returned in kind. Now, if you’llexcuse me, it’s been a long day and I’d like to relax with my fiancée.”

“Of course, sir. Good evening to you both.” Dante clears his throat andbows out of the room.

Bee and I wait in our carefully coordinated pose, arms looped around eachother’s waists. From the foyer, the elevator’s automated voice chimes out,“Doors opening… Doors closing.”

As soon as I hear the telltale metallic whoosh, I let my arm fall from Bee’ship and we both exhale in unison.

“Thank f*****g God,” she mumbles, springing away from me. “I’ve got ahot date tonight, and the last thing I want is to scare her away by smellinglike some big, scary man.”

I laugh as she dances away and disappears through a doorway in a flash ofsilver. The vodka I drank earlier is still singeing its way down my throat,but I move to the bar anyway and pour myself another dose in one of thecrystal tumblers that Bee gifted me for our “second anniversary.”

When she shimmies back into the living room, I’m almost done with mydrink and she’s dressed in a slinky pink dress that demands attention.Beatrice Zanetti has never been one for subtlety, that’s for damn sure.

“Zip me up, will you?” she requests, cavorting around as she pulls her hairin front over one bare shoulder.

“Who’s the lucky woman?” I ask uninterestedly as I tug the zipper up to thenape of her neck.

“The hot waitress from last week. The blonde who does that lip bite thing Iwas telling you about.” She spins in place and starts finger combing her hairback to proper order, eyes going all foggy and dreamy as she thinks abouther newest conquest.

She’s bubbly tonight, which means she’s excited about this date. I’m notsure why that irritates me so much. Probably because I’m stuck with a shitton of complications while she gets to go out on the town and frolic.

“A second date with the same woman? Did hell freeze over?”

Cackling, Bee punches me in the shoulder. “Hey, I dated that ballerina for afull three weeks last summer. I might’ve even gone for four if she hadn’tdecided she liked men better.”

“Pity.” I return my attention to my vodka. It’s the best money can buy—clear as glacier melt and just as bracing. I twist it this way and that in mytumbler, watching how it refracts the light into a million little shards.

Normally, it puts me at ease. It’s not doing the trick tonight, though. Insteadof numbing out the thoughts, it’s making them louder and more chaotic.

Bee’s smile dwindles as she regards me. “I f*****g hate it when you stare atme,” I mutter.

“What crawled up your ass and died tonight?” Instead of leaving me to stewlike I deserve, she pulls out the bronze barstool next to me and parks herPrada-clad ass down on it.

“Never.” She drills her nails against the marble countertop. “Remember thatpromise we made to each other when we were teenagers?”

I scowl and set the tumbler down a little harder than I intended. “Why doyou always bring that up?”

She smirks, her amber eyes flashing with mischief. “Because I like makingyou say it. Go on—you know you want to.”

“Blyat’, Bee. You realize we’re in our thirties now, right?”

“f*****g pest,” I mumble under my breath half-heartedly. “Wepromised —”

“Nuh-uh-uh. The whole thing. Spare no detail.”

My eyes roll with irritation. “We pinky promised—” Bee chucklesdelightedly at my correction. “—that we were always going to have eachother’s backs.”

“That’s right.” She nods in gleeful triumph, just like she always does whenshe coerces me into playing along with her. “You and me. Mafia mates forlife. Bratva buddies forever.” She holds out her fist expectantly. “Comeonnn, she’s waiting for a bump.”

I glare at her tiredly and graze my knuckles against hers. “I used to thinkthat you’d tone down as you got older, but I stand corrected. You just getmore annoying with age.”

Bee bats her eyelashes at me. “Aw, that kinda reminds me of the speech youmade right before you proposed. I won’t make you recount that one, but just

know that it lives in my heart forever. So tender. So vulnerable. So —”

“For the love of f*****g God, Bee, give it a rest. I’m not in the mood.”

Still grinning from ear to ear, she gives me a sympathetic look. “Thentherapy is in session, baby. Tell me what’s going on and don’t sugar coatanything.”

“That bristly old f**k from the clinic called.”

“Dr. Saeder? Oh, such a gem. How’s his wife doing? Her arthritis was outof control the last time I—” I fix her with a glare that sends her trailing offwide-eyed. “Jeez, okay. We’re not talking about Dr. Saeder’s wife rightnow. Noted.”

“Not unless it’s about arranging a delivery of condolence flowers,” I growl.“Because I’m contemplating making a widow of her soon.”

Bee straightens up and starts chewing on her bottom lip. “Uh-oh. Whathappened?”

“My sample was mislabeled at the lab. It’s already been used on anotherclient. And… the insemination took.”

Her jaw drops; her rapping nails go still—even her breath catches in thecrook of her throat. I can only laugh miserably, because that pale-faced,wide-eyed, this-can’t-be-real expression must be exactly how I lookedwhen I got the call from Saeder earlier today.

My God, was that really today? It’s been the longest day of my goddamnedlife.

But something tells me the days ahead are only going to feel longer.

“You’re f*****g with me,” Bee breathes at last.

I down the dregs of my vodka. “I wish I was.”

Her eyes dilate. “f**k. She doesn’t even know—Aw, goddammit, she has tobe made aware of the situation she’s getting herself into. Contracts need tobe drawn up; NDAs need to be signed!”

“I’m aware,” I growl. “Believe me, I’m very well aware.”