“If he’d only talked to me, told me he was…” Navarro makes a despairing gesture. “Georgios mentioned you in his suicide note, and poor little Nataša.”
My attention snaps back to Navarro. Georgios! That was the man who attacked Damir in his office that day. And who’s Nataša?
Damir frowns. “Did he? But that’s all in the past. It surely can’t have been plaguing him after all these years.”
“Apparently it was. Becoming engaged again brought back all those feelings from long ago. He still felt guilty.”
My “fiancée” places a hand over his heart, as if the news is devastating to him. “Oh, he was engaged? How terrible for his bride-to-be. As a man who is about to become a newlywed myself, my heart goes out to her.”
I don’t manage to suppress rolling my eyes. Navarro is too busy lapping up Damir’s fake sympathy to notice.
“Mikhail and I never blamed Georgios for what happened,” Damir tells him. “You do know that, I hope. I just wish Georgios had reached out to us. Nataša was always…” He makes a gesture with his hand, as if to suggest that this Nataša was an unstable sort of person.
The two men watch each other a moment, both their faces carefully emotionless. Then Navarro smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Of course. The Ravnikars have always been good friends of the Navarros. Enjoy your stay in Monte Carlo. I shall see you again, I hope.”
“I would love that. Bethany and I shall be here for at least the next week, assuming we don’t need to make a hasty departure.” Again the roguish smile, accompanied by a wink this time.
The older man laughs and turns away with a little wave. As he moves across the room, I see the same expression of pure hatred flicker in Damir’s eyes.
“Well, that was quite the performance,” I mutter under my breath.
“Mine, or his?”
“Both of you. You clearly hate each other’s guts. What happened to his son?”
Damir puts his lips against my ear and whispers, “I killed him.”
I suck in a breath. Of course he did. “Did you burn him alive, like you said you wanted to?”
“No. I tortured him, and then I slit his throat.” He runs the backs of his fingers over the nape of my neck, making me shiver. “But don’t be jealous. Not like I torture you, princesa. He didn’t like it very much, I’m afraid. Ciara didn’t like it, either.”
“Ciara! What’s she got to do with it?”
Damir glances around. “Not here. Let’s get out of here.”
Once we’re back in the Mercedes and speeding back toward the marina, Damir lays his arm along the back seat and pulls me against his side. “You wanted to know about Ciara. She happened to stop by when I was in the middle of things with Georgios. The timing was perfect. I finished him off, and she threw up all over the ground. Messy, but an excellent lesson for her. Anyway, before I kill Mikhail I expect him to thank me for what I did for the Ravnikars.”
I rub my fingers over my temples. There’s a lot to unpack in those sentences. Ciara must have gone to give some of Mikhail’s money to Damir while he was getting all Hostel on Georgios. But what’s this about the Ravnikars?
“Back up a bit. Georgios did something to you and Mikhail? And who’s Nataša?”
“She was my little sister,” he says in a clipped voice, and sits up. “We’re here.”
I try to get him to go into more detail as we get into the boat and speed back to the yacht, but Damir makes non-committal noises, and won’t look at me.
The night’s events have made Damir moody, and when we get back on board, he disappears off somewhere. Fine. Let him be secretive and dramatic. I’m going to bed.
Before I can head to our cabin, a hand de
scends on my arm. I turn, expecting to see Damir, but it’s Boris.
He’s eyes bore into mine. “These are not good men Mr. Ravnikar is forcing you to consort with.”
Well, yeah. I’d figured that much out for myself, what with the guns, murder and coke. But why is Boris so bothered?
“Be on your guard, always.” He gives my arm a squeeze, and then hurries away, back to the main deck. I watch him go, frowning. Be on my guard for what, exactly? I thought the only person I have to worry about hurting me is Damir.