I’d lost control in this room.

I swore to myself I wouldn’t do it ever again, and so far, I hadn’t.

The sound of cardboard sliding against stone grabbed my attention. Oksana had found the boxes labeled ‘Christmas’ in a pile behind the stairs, and as she lifted one of them in her arms, she gazed at me. “You okay?”

I glanced back at the chip in the cement . . . and a slow smile worked across my face. I’d been such a pussy about the basement, and it was stupid. What had I expected? That all the guilt I should have felt about killing my father was lying down here, waiting for me? It wasn’t, because it didn’t exist. Bad people got what they deserved.

No point thinking about it. Someday my number would be up, too.

35

Oksana

I was sitting at the computer in the office, working on Vasilije’s Christmas present, when the alarm system chirped and the front door groaned open. My heart stopped. Only a few people had codes, and Whitney and Vasilije always came in through the garage.

My hand shook as I jerked open the bottom drawer and palmed the 9mm. If it was Goran who’d just entered the house, Vasilije would never make it home from the dealership in time. Hadn’t he revoked his uncle’s code?

The man who walked past the office doorway stopped and backtracked, swinging his gaze into the room to focus on me. I slowly lowered the gun back into the drawer and pushed it closed.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

Luka Markovic looked like a serious, formal version of his younger brother.

“Oksana,” I said, standing from my chair.

His eyes scrutinized and judged every inch of me, and his eyebrow crept up with displeasure. “I don’t think my brother’s going to be happy to hear his staff was using his computer while he’s not here.”

His . . . what? I stumbled over the words. “I’m not staff. I’m his . . .” Partner? “Girlfriend.”

Luka didn’t blink. He just stared.

A female voice came from beyond the doorway. “Oh my God, Vasilije put up a Christmas tree?” The owner of the voice stepped into view. She looked similar in age to Vasilije. Her brown hair was swept back in a ponytail and her cheeks were rosy from the cold outside, and as she unbuttoned her wool coat, her hands slowed. She looked at me, curious.

Luka’s hard expression made him seem even older than the twenty-eight years I knew he was. Vasilije didn’t talk about his brother much. He was an accountant who preferred numbers to people, all except for Addison, the girl who stood beside him.

She was pretty in an effortless way, but I could barely look at her. I’d had nothing to do with her family’s murder, but I felt crushing guilt by proxy. My father had done that. He’d ordered the horrific death of her parents and brother. If I’d known before it happened, would I have been able to do anything to stop it? Would her family still be alive?

“Vasilije didn’t mention a girlfriend.” Luka’s tone was an accusation.

“Well, Luka,” I said pointedly, “he didn’t mention you would be coming by either.”

Did a smile just flit across Addison’s lips? It vanished instantly. His eyes squeezed down into slits, and just as he opened his mouth to say something, my phone on the desktop rang, silencing him. I didn’t have to look at the screen to know who it was. Vasilije was the only person who called.

I picked it up and tapped the screen. “Hello?”

“I just got an alert,” he said in a blur. “Someone used my brother’s code to get in the house.” There was noise in the background like a car door slamming and an engine starting. Was he rushing to try to get to the house? “Get a gun, go upstairs, and lock yourself in my closet. The door’s reinforced and—”

“Vasilije, it’s okay. Your brother was the one who used the code.”

“What the fuck? Luka’s there?” He made a sound of exasperation. “Put him on the phone.”

I extended it out to the man staring at me. “Vasilije wants to talk to you.”

He crossed the room, took the phone from me, and held it to his ear. “There’s a Russian girl in the office, claiming to be your girlfriend.” Whatever Vasilije said in response made Luka soften. He was still stiff and on edge, but seemed less adversarial toward me. “Addison’s on break,” he continued, “and I got time off. So, surprise. We caught a flight this morning, and we’re here for Christmas.” He looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, we’re going. He didn’t leave me much choice.”

Was Luka talking about Goran’s party?

As the phone conversation continued between brothers, I sensed Addison’s gaze on me, but I stared at the pattern in the rug. Would Vasilije tell his brother the truth about who I was? Would he tell her?

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