Page 48 of Secret Heir

What the fuck was that?

“Who was that?” Alexander asks, his eyes tracking her departure.

“Aria,” I say slowly, still trying to process what I just saw. “The woman I’ve been searching for.”

Alexander’s eyebrows rise. “The one who disappeared eight years ago?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“You found her after all this time. When?”

“Nearly seven months ago.” I’m still staring at the empty hallway. “She was in Philadelphia.”

“And she’s…staying here now?” There’s something in his voice I can’t quite identify. Curiosity? Concern?

“Yes. With our son.”

“Son?” Alexander turns to me fully now, and I can see genuine surprise on his face. “Maksim, I had no idea.”

“Neither did I until I found her.” I gesture toward my office. “Come on. We have a lot to discuss.”

We settle into my office. Alexander sits in one of the leather chairs across from my desk, and I pour us both vodka from the decanter on the sideboard.

I hand him a glass and take my seat, but my mind is still on Aria’s reaction.

Why did she look at Alexander like that? It was like she recognized him and was scared shitless.

How would she even know him? She disappeared eight years ago, before Alexander would have had any reason to interact with anyone outside of Nikolai’s immediate circle. She worked at a gallery in Brighton Beach and lived a quiet life. Their paths shouldn’t have crossed.

“Maksim?” Alexander’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” I take a drink. “Just distracted. What did Nikolai want to discuss?”

We talk business for the next hour. Territorial disputes in Brighton Beach. Problems with the Corsican families encroaching on our operations. Financial matters that need attention. Normal organization business.

But Alexander seems distracted too. He asks questions that seem tangential to the main discussion—questions about Aria.

“Where did you find her again?” he asks, swirling his vodka. “After eight years, she could have been anywhere.”

“Philadelphia. She was living under an assumed name.” I don’t elaborate. Aria’s privacy feels important to protect, even from someone I trust.

“And she just…came back with you? After all this time?” Alexander sounds surprised.

“It wasn’t a choice.” I meet his eyes. “I wasn’t letting her disappear again. Not with my son.”

He nods slowly. “Of course. What did she tell you about why she ran?”

That’s an interesting question to ask, but curiosity is a real thing.

“She said she was scared.” It’s the truth, if not the whole truth. “She apparently saw something that made her think she needed to leave.”

“Saw something?” Alexander leans forward slightly. “What kind of something?”

“She won’t say,” I say bitterly, still irritated with her that she won’t fucking tell me. “She’s holding on to whatever scared her eight years ago.”

“And you’re letting her?” His tone is mild, but there’s an edge underneath. “The Maksim I know would have gotten answers by now.”

“The Maksim you know didn’t have a nearly eight-year-old son to consider.” I set my glass down with more force than necessary. “I’m not going to traumatize the boy by forcing his mother to talk.”