Hidden Truths (Perfectly Imperfect #3)

“So, what was your plan?”

“There wasn’t one. My main goal was to leave Mexico and get to the US. I have friends here who would have helped me. I planned on contacting one of my father’s partners to help me get documents so I can access my accounts, and then be as far gone as possible.”

“Which partner?”

“Liam O’Neil.”

“I don’t think asking Liam O’Neil for help is a good idea, Miss Sandoval.”

“Why not?”

“Because, the information I have says that Liam and Diego started working together.”

I curse inwardly. There goes my plan for getting the documents. What am I going to do now?

Petrov watches me through narrowed eyes, probably wondering what the hell he should do with me.

“I have a proposition for you,” he says finally.

“What kind of proposition?”

“I need help with something. You help me, and I get you the documents and anything else you need, and make sure Diego never finds you.”

“And if I decline?”

“I tie you up with a bow and send you back to Mexico.”

“So, you’re blackmailing me?”

“Yup. It’s worked great for me in the past.” He smiles. “I blackmailed my wife into marrying me. Twice.”

Poor woman. He’s probably keeping her tied up in a room somewhere in the house. Bastard.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing special.” He shrugs. “Just stay where you are for the next couple of months. Let’s make it six months, that’s my favorite blackmail period.”

I stare at him. “Sorry, I’m not following.”

“I need you to stay with Sergei and keep doing whatever you’ve been doing so far.”

“I wasn’t doing anything other than sleep, eat, and wander through the house.”

“There.” Petrov smiles. “That doesn’t sound hard, does it? Think of it as an impromptu vacation.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would you want me to stay there and do nothing?”

“Because, my brother seems to have an unexpectedly positive reaction to you being there.”

“Your brother?”

“Sergei is my half brother.”

I look him over. They don’t look anything alike at first glance, but now he’s mentioned it, I can see the similarity in the lines of his face. The sharp cheekbones, the jawline, the build.

“You want me to play therapy dog for Sergei?” I ask, incredulous.

“Yes!” He hits the table in front of him with this palm, laughing. “A therapy dog. I couldn’t have put it better myself.”