“You had sex with him three days ago in that cell. Now you want to pretend you can work alongside him like nothing happened?”
I didn’t realize Dmitri knew about that. My face must show my surprise because he continues.
“Boris sees everything that happens in this compound. Did you think he wouldn’t report that my sister visited a prisoner alone and didn’t leave for forty-five minutes?”
“It was a mistake.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you’re trying to figure out if what you felt for him was real. And that’s not a mistake. That’s just confusing and messy.”
I wrap my arms around myself. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“None of us do. But I need to know you can handle this, Sasha. If you can’t, that’s okay. I’ll keep you out of it. But I can’t have you falling apart in the middle of an operation because you’re too close to the situation.”
“I won’t fall apart.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
He gives me one curt nod and replies “Okay. Then let’s get to work.”
He opens the door and calls Tony back in. We spend the next hour going over details—what information Tony has access to, what Adrian’s likely to ask for, and how we’ll verify each piece of intelligence before it’s sent.
I sit quietly and listen. Take notes. Ask clarifying questions when necessary. Act like a professional.
But the entire time, I’m hyperaware of Tony standing ten feet away. The way he adjusts his weight when Dmitri asks difficult questions. How his voice goes flat when he talks about Adrian’s demands and how he avoids looking at me unless absolutely necessary.
My body remembers things my mind wants to forget.
I cross my legs and focus on my notes.
Finally, Dmitri declares the meeting over. “Tony, Boris will escort you back to your room. Sasha, stay for a minute.”
Tony leaves. I wait.
“You’re doing well,” Dmitri says once we’re alone again. “Better than I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Tears, maybe. Anger. Something.”
I draw in a long breath and ask, “Would you prefer tears?”
“I’d prefer honesty.”
I consider lying. Consider telling Dmitri that I’m completely over Tony and that seeing him means nothing to me. But my brother deserves better than that.
“I don’t know what I feel,” I admit. “Part of me hates him for what he did. Part of me wants to believe he’s telling the truth about sabotaging his own mission. And part of me just wants to understand who he is when he’s not lying.”
“That’s fair.”
“Is it? Because it feels disastrous.”
“Love usually is.” Dmitri stands. “Go get some rest. We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning to review Adrian’s response.”
I leave his office and head toward my room. The compound is quiet this time of day. Most of the men are out handling business, and the ones who remain don’t bother me as I walk through the hallways.
My mind won’t stop replaying the meeting. The way Tony’s shoulders looked in that t-shirt, his voice dropping when he talked about Adrian, and how he glanced at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. The hunger I saw in that glance before he hid it.
