Page 49 of Secret Heir

“Of course not.” Alexander sits back. “Forgive me. It’s just…surprising. Everyone in the family knew about your search. Nikolai was worried about you. We all were. And now you’ve found her, and she still won’t tell you the truth?”

“We’re working on it,” I lie easily. But we’re not working on anything except finding new ways to hurt each other, neither of us willing to give ground.

Alexander studies me for a long moment. “Does she remember anything about New York? About her time in Brighton Beach?”

Another odd question. “I assume so. Why?”

“Just curious.” He picks up his glass again. “It must be strange for her, being back in this world after trying to leave it.”

There’s something in his tone that bothers me and I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s like he’s fishing for information. But that’s ridiculous. Alexander has no reason to care about Aria beyond natural curiosity about the woman who’s consumed eight years of my life.

We finish our discussion, have dinner, then I walk him to the door. His car is waiting, ready to take him back to the city.

“Give my regards to Nikolai,” I say.

“Of course.” He pauses with his hand on the car door. “Maksim…be careful with this woman. She ran once. She could run again.”

“She won’t,” I say harshly. “I’ve made sure of that.”

He nods and gets in the car. I watch until the taillights disappear down the driveway, then I turn back to the house.

Something about that conversation bothers me. The questions about Aria. The way he seemed so interested in what she remembered and what she’d told me.

And Aria’s reaction when she saw him. That moment of pure terror before she locked it down.

I need answers.

I find Aria in her suite, pacing like a caged animal. The balcony doors are open. Despite the muggy evening air, she’s wrapped her arms around herself like she’s freezing.

“Aria.”

She spins to face me, and I can see the agitation in every line of her body. “I didn’t hear you knock.”

“I didn’t.” I close the door behind me. “We need to talk.”

“I have a headache.” She turns away from me, staring out at the dark ocean. “I want to be alone.”

“Bullshit.” I step closer. “What happened in the hallway?”

Her shoulders stiffen. “Nothing happened.”

“You saw Alexander and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Your face went white. You could barely stand.” I’m right behind her now. “Don’t lie to me, Aria. Not about this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She’s purposefully making herself sound disinterested. “I was just surprised you had company. That’s all.”

“You’re lying.” I grip her shoulders and turn her to face me. “You recognized him. And it terrified you. Why?”

“Let go of me.” She tries to pull away, but I hold firm.

“Tell me the truth. Do you know Alexander?” Jealousy rears its ugly head.

“No.” But there’s something in her eyes—fear or recognition—that says otherwise.

I growl in frustration. “Goddammit, Aria.”

“I said no!” She shoves at my chest. “I don’t know him. I don’t know anything. And I’m tired of you interrogating me like I’m some kind of criminal!”

“Then stop acting like you have something to hide!” I snap.