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XIII
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2024-12-24 16:19:30
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His Son, Her Secret CCXV : She Stood Still. He Fell. And We Were Too Late [Pascha]
I wiped the blood from my temple with the back of my hand. “We have to go. Now.”Rafael nodded. “To the cooler room. There’s an underground tunnel from there. I usually use it to smuggle out drunk diplomats.”“You’re really a mix of devil and chef,” Ronan muttered.“You haven’t tried my tacos,” Rafael grinned.We moved quickly toward the back, down a narrow hallway behind the kitchen.Rafael’s underground tunnel wasn’t just a tunnel.It was a hidden network layered with steel-reinforced concrete, as thick as the secrets it held. The walls were cold, lined with old pipes and red cables that snaked like the veins of a mafia palace. At its dark end, the smell of iron, sweat, and gunpowder mixed like hell’s breath.We ran while Calvin and Jacob stayed in our ears, whispering coordinates.“Intersection room in 20 meters,” Calvin said. “But thermal detection shows movement on the left side path. They know this route, Pascha.”Rafael clicked his tongue. “Damn. That means a traitor.”I just i
His Son, Her Secret CCXIV : What a Lovely Night to Die [Pascha]
The explosion of glass was followed by a scream of fear. I pulled Belva into my arms tightly, pinning her against the cold marble floor with my elbow supporting her head so it wouldn’t hit.Her perfume...sandalwood, vanilla, and a faint trace of tension hit my system hard.No. She couldn’t be by my side.“Bee,” I whispered harshly into her ear. “Look at me.”Her eyes widened, scared, but focused. She was listening.“Don’t move. Don’t speak. Follow my orders.” I kissed her quickly to lock in her attention. So she’d know I was still here. That I wasn’t going to let her die at Rafael’s goddamn party.My left hand reached for the hidden weapon at my waist. My right hand stayed wrapped protectively around her.Then Jacob appeared. Calm as always, his face unchanged even as blood nearly splattered from the bar wall.“You need an exit route,” he said. “Next to the kitchen. I cleared it.”“Take them,” I said quickly.Jacob glanced at Belva, then at Mikaela who was now hiding behind the bar wi
His Son, Her Secret CCXIII : Honey, the Guns Came Right After the Forgiveness
As soon as he disappeared, I turned to Pascha, who was taking two small glasses from a waiter’s tray. He handed me one without a word.“What kind of man is he really?” I asked, sipping tequila far too smooth to be sold in an ordinary store. “I... I've never seen you this relaxed around anyone except your three psycho friends and your family.”“He’s the owner of Aerolínea de Sol. A regional airline in Central and South America. Business-class flights with a name far too romantic for their fleet of combat jets.” he said, lazyly.I raised an eyebrow. “Okay... that checks out.”“And he’s also the head of the Cartel de Las Cimas. The second-largest black market network in Mexico. Possibly the largest now, depending on who you ask.”I choked.Seriously, I choked.“Excuse me?”Pascha just gave a one-shouldered shrug. “He’s a busy man.”“A busy man?!” I hissed, trying not to draw attention. “You... you brought me to a mafia party?!”“It’s a business party.”“Hosted by the mafia.”Pascha turne
His Son, Her Secret CCXII : Glasswater
We went to Gosausee the morning. A mountain lake hidden like the most beautiful secret in the heart of Salzkammergut. The black car driven by the Romanov family’s local chauffeur glided slowly along the narrow, winding roads, through spruce forests and rocky slopes that looked like they’d been painted with a lazy summer brush.When we arrived, I was the first to get out of the car and froze.“Oh my God…”I didn’t even realize I said it out loud.“You look like a tourist seeing water for the first time.” Pascha said.“Because this isn’t water. This is… liquid glass.”Gosausee stretched out in front of me like another world fallen from the sky. The water was crystal clear, reflecting the blue sky, the towering Dachstein peaks in the distance, and the silent pine trees lining the shore.I stepped onto the small wooden dock, looked up, then quickly lifted my phone and started taking pictures.Once. Twice. Three times. Then switched to panorama mode.“Pchelka,” Pascha sighed lazily, “this
His Son, Her Secret CCXI : Silent Alps, Louder Love
The Romanov private jet rolled slowly across the small airstrip owned by an old Austrian noble family, just a few kilometers from Hallstatt. Through the cabin’s oval window, I could see the crystal blue lake that seemed to reflect heaven itself, framed by the Alps, their peaks still snow-covered even though summer still hung warmly in the air.Pascha sat across from me, his white shirt rolled up to the elbows, legs crossed, one hand holding a glass of white wine from the Romanov family’s private vineyard. He had just pointed toward the village that looked like a miniature fairytale in the distance.“That’s where we’ll be staying,” he said, his tone half-serious, half overly pleased. “A little castle that once served as the exile home of a rebellious prince. Fitting for my rebellious wife.”I threw a pillow at him. “Are you calling this a honeymoon or a romantic military camp?”“Both,” he replied, catching the pillow as it landed on his chest. “But without guns. Just love and potential
His Son, Her Secret CCX : If Love Smells Like Broth
I stood on the right side of the large marble table, slicing onions at a speed that made the knife nearly silent. Clara was on the other side, kneading pelmeni dough with the focused look of a professional chef competing on a cooking show.Natalia—or maybe I should start calling her “Mama”—stood between us, wearing an ivory apron embroidered with the Romanov’s signature winged lion at the edge. Her hands were busy mixing dumpling filling, but her eyes watched the way I was preparing the borscht soup.“You’re still very skilled in the kitchen,” she said. “It seems your talents have only grown.”I chuckled, looking at the pot of slowly boiling broth. “When you live alone with a toddler for four years, you learn things college never taught you.”“Exactly,” Clara chimed in without looking up. “Belva runs her kitchen like a military operation. Breakfast at seven, lunch at twelve, and don’t even think about bothering her when she’s making soup. You might get kicked out of the house.”Natali
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