Except under that all-knowing gleam in his eyes, I fold like wet cardboard. “I didn’t see anything.”
My eyes widen in alarm.
A smile, smooth as spilled honey, spreads across Roman’s face. “Could you convince the cops of that? Because you didn’t convince me.”
My mouth dries.
Crap. I’ve failed the test. Failed Alexei. Failed myself. Will Roman murder me? Here, in this beautiful boutique with kids playing hide-and-seek between the racks? If so, how will they possibly remove the blood from all that white fabric?
“I’m not sure, but the way I see it, Alexei saved me.” Desperate words tumble out. “So yes, I think I could convince them, because…or no. No, maybe I couldn’t.” I inhale through my nose to curb my rising panic before meeting his eyes. “To be honest…and this might surprise you…I’m a terrible liar.”
He reveals zero expression at first before barking with laughter. I think I’ve caught the man off guard. Whether that’s good or bad remains to be seen. “Shocking. But don’t fret. That won’t be an issue. Once you’re Alexei’s wife, you can’t be forced to testify against him. Right?”
I swallow hard. “Right.”
He pats my cheek. “Smart girl. You’ll do well.” Rising with fluid grace, he heads toward Mikhail, his posture relaxed.
The audience is over.
I release a shaky breath, lungs burning with the sudden release of tension.
Roman knows.
Of course he knows.
Yet by some benevolent spin of the universe, he’s choosing to allow this fake engagement to proceed. Forcing it to continue, actually. Why? What game is he playing?
Before I can untangle the knot of questions, the attendant signals for me to return to the dressing room. I tug at the silken red robe around me and follow her with leaden feet.
I’m halfway there when the world explodes.
The sharp, violent crack echoes through the boutique.
Floor-to-ceiling windows shatter inward in a cascade of glittering diamonds. A mannequin fractures. The plastic head spins across the room, bouncing once, twice on the carpet.
High-pitched screams erupt.
Irina and Valeria dive behind a display, dragging children with them. The attendants scatter like frightened birds.
My heart slams against my ribs as my mind refuses to process what’s happening.
More glass shatters. More mannequins explode. More shouts rend the air along with fast-paced bangs and pops.
Gunshots. Who would dare attack the Kozlovs?
I’m frozen in place, my muscles refusing to obey my brain’s frantic command to find cover. A bright target in a red silk robe.
Before I can force my shell-shocked body to move, Alexei slams into me like a human battering ram with bone-jarring force.
The impact knocks the air from my lungs as we crash to the floor behind the plush velvet chaise. His body covers mine, a solid, crushing weight shoving me into the carpet.
Again. He’s protecting me again.
The world narrows to his musky evergreen scent and the press of his gun against my hip. His hot breath feathers my ear, and his heartbeat against my chest soothes me.
How can his heart be so steady when mine threatens to explode?
After a few seconds, he rolls off me, pivoting to his knees to create a barrier between me and the shattered window.
