But if I didn’t help her, she was dead. And I wasn’t letting that happen.
I sucked in my breath and slowly let it out. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll help you. Just as...”—what did they call it on the cop shows?—“partners.We’ll bring these people down. Clear your name. And then you go back to your side, and I go back to mine.”
At that last part, I saw her swallow and blink, her cheeks reddening again, and I felt that brutal ache in my chest for hurting her.Blyat’! Why did you kiss her, Gennadiy? Why did you have to be so weak?
I sighed and tried to think of practicalities. “You’ll need to stay here until we’re done,” I thought out loud. “It’s the only place that’s safe. Follow me.” As I marched upstairs, it slowly sank in that we were going to be working side by side and living together in this house for however long this took. Being so close to her but having to resist her...this is going to be hell.
We came to a landing, and I waved my hand at four identical doors. “Take any of the guest bedrooms.”
She stared. “You havefourguest bedrooms?”
“In this wing. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll talk to my brothers and make a plan.”
She chose the second room from the left. As she was about to close the door, she turned back to me. “Thank you.”
Despite what I’d just put her through, she meant it. I looked away, not used to gratitude, and gave her a curt little nod. When I heard her door close, I slumped against the wall.What the fuck am I going to do now?
28
ALISON
I woke lost and confused,comically small in the emperor-sized bed. Someone was knocking on the door, too lightly to be Gennadiy. I’d stripped down to my panties to sleep, and I didn’t have anything else to put on, so I scrambled back into my vest top, then cracked the door open, hiding behind it.
She was about twenty-five, blonde and absurdly pretty, in a white blouse and black skirt. “Mr. Aristov thought you might need these,” she told me in a heavy Russian accent, and passed me a dark green leather bag the size of a large purse. “And these.” She passed me a bundle of clothes and then, when I’d put them down, handed me a stack of boxes. “Breakfast will be served downstairs whenever you’re ready.” And then she curtsied, graceful as a swan. I managed to stutter out a thank you, then closed the door and leaned against it, dazed.Servants. He has servants.
I touched my fingers to my lips, remembering the kiss. Why had he suddenly pulled away? It hurt more than it should have, maybe because when I’d melted into the kiss, it had made me acknowledge all the feelings I’dbeen denying. I’d been craving his touch for three months, and for thirty heart-stopping seconds, it had actually happened...and then he’d ripped it all away again. My chest ached,remembering it.A mistake,he’d said, brutally crushing the excitement that had been rising inside me. Had I been wrong, all the times he’d seemed to want me? Had I just been imagining it? My insecurities about my body woke and uncoiled.Of course he doesn’t want you...
I took a deep breath and rammed the feelings down inside, then looked at the clothes. God, he’d bought me an entire freakin’ wardrobe. There were jeans, vest tops, blouses, sweaters, and underwear, and a cute, bottle-green denim jacket that I fell in love with immediately. It was all high-end designer wear from achingly cool brands, so high quality that my own clothes suddenly felt scratchy and cheap. Everything was fresh from the store...but there were no price tags. Gennadiy’s maid had cut them off just to save me a few seconds, even though that meant they couldn’t be returned. Money really did mean nothing to him.
Wait...it was only eight in the morning.How did he get these here so early?Either he had access to some personal shopper service for the ultra- rich that delivered within hours...or he’d called up the manager of some store downtown and scared them into opening early for him. Neither would have surprised me.
There were skirts and summer dresses, some of which were actually really pretty. But nothing I could ever wear. I looked down at my ruined leg.Not his fault. He’s only ever seen me in pants.The boxes contained shoes in three different sizes. The heels were far taller than I’d ever wear, but there were a pair of leather ankle boots that were badass. I opened up the leather bag and found it was stuffed full of toiletries: everything from toothpaste to shampoo. He’d even thrown in some tampons and pads.
I took a long, hot shower and dressed, choosing some black jeans, a white blouse, and the ankle boots, then went to investigate breakfast. I found my way back to the staircase and then downstairs. The maid who’d brought me the clothes was polishing the banister, and I thanked her again and asked her name: Milena.
I followed the smell of food and found the dining room...and Gennadiy, sitting at the head of the table, sipping coffee. Both of usfroze, unsure how to play things. “Thank you for the clothes,” I said at last.
“I’m glad they...fit.” His gaze traced over my hip, following the tight denim so closely it felt like a caress.I’m definitely not imaginingthat. But then he tore his eyes away guiltily.What’s going on?
I sat and, immediately, a man in chef’s whites appeared from the kitchen. “What can I bring you for breakfast?” He had the same heavy Russian accent as Milena.
“Umm…”How do you order when there’s no menu?“Anything. Whatever’s easiest.” The chef looked blank. “Uh...what do you have?”
He blinked at me, almost offended. “Everything! Pancakes? An omelet? Bread, cold meats, cheeses? Porridge with honey, or chia seeds, or goji berries? An English muffin? Poached eggs? Scrambled eggs? Eggs Benedict? Pastries, fruit? You’re American: waffles with maple syrup? Bacon and sausage?Steak?”
I gaped at him. “Um. Could I get half a grapefruit and some toast, please?”
“Right away.”
I looked at Gennadiy. “All your servants are Russian? Because you don’t trust outsiders?”
“Yes, they’re all Russian. And I don’t trust anybody.”
Just a few moments later, my breakfast arrived, and it was amazing, the grapefruit juicy and deliciously sour, the toast sliced thick and with just the right blend of crunchy outer layer and fluffy middle. I was on my last mouthful when I heard voices in the hallway. Male voices, and one sounded bad-tempered.
My stomach dropped. I trusted Gennadiy—mostly. But his brothers were something else. I was about to be outnumbered, behind closed doors, on their turf, and I didn’t have the protection of being an FBI agent anymore. “Do we have to involve them?” I asked quickly.
“Radimir is myPakhan,”Gennadiy told me firmly. “I’ll try to convince him to help you. But if I can’t…” He shook his head, worried.
