“Good work,” I acknowledge, before walking past the living room. Perhaps keeping Mario around wasn’t such an awful idea.
Aleksandra is situated on the floor, her back against the wall. She’s reading a book that she must have found on the bookshelf. Her knees are bent, her focus on the pages. She doesn’t seem to notice my presence just outside of the door.
The amber light of the fire cascades her in a soft, warm glow. She’s beautiful, and the silence from her is even more delightful.
I hurry to catch up to Mario as he’s headed in the opposite direction, away from my office. “Did you get DNA samples from the twins?” I ask, trying to be discreet, although it seems like everyone already knows my secret.
“I did not,” he says. “I can do that now if you’d like.”
There’s no sense in making a scene in front of the other families. “That isn’t necessary. This evening, I’d like you to make sure you do DNA swabs and send them in to be tested right away. I’ve already done my sample. It’s in my top desk drawer.”
“Do you want me to go through unofficial channels?” Mario asks.
“I want the results as quickly as possible.” If that means that he needs to use a source to do it, a soldier who greases a cop, I don’t care.
The twins are likely mine, based on Aleksandra’s remarks, but I need confirmation. She could be playing me, thinking that I’ll keep them safe if they’re my kin.