"What?"
"I'm working on something. I'll have the details for you tomorrow. But Kat…" He pauses. "You need to trust me."
"I do trust you."
"Even if it sounds insane?"
I laugh, and it comes out shaky. "You're my brother. Insane is kind of your specialty."
"This might feel like insanity beyond what you might be comfortable but I think it could work." There's a smile in his voice now.
“Do I have to fake my own death?” I ask.
Finally, Luka lets out a soft chuckle. "No, not that extreme, but it might feel like it. Get some sleep. I'll call you in the morning."
"Luka—"
"Trust me," he says again.
And then he hangs up.
I sit there in the dark, my heart pounding, my mind racing.
I don't know what he's planning.
But for the first time in weeks, I feel something other than dread.
I feel hope.
The next morning, I meet my best friend, Irina, at a coffee shop in the West Village.
She's already there when I arrive, with two lattes and a croissant waiting on the table. She takes one look at my face and groans.
"That bad?"
I sink into the chair across from her. "Worse."
"Your dad?"
"He's forcing me to go back to Moscow. Arranged marriage to a politician with bad taste in flowers."
Irina's eyes go wide. "You're kidding."
"I wish I were."
"Can't you just… refuse?"
I give her a look.
She winces. "Right. Scary Russian mob family. Forgot."
Irina's one of the few people who know the truth about my family—not all of it, but enough. She's been my closest friend since Juilliard, the one person I trust completely.
"So what are you going to do?" she asks.
"I don't know. Luka says he's working on something, but he wouldn't tell me what."
"Your brother's kind of terrifying, you know that, right?"
