"Feeling better?”
"Yes." It still hurts to talk, but not as much as this morning.
He reaches into the bag, pulling out a plastic container. "I got you some food.” He gives me a pointed look and says, “Russian food,” as if I was expecting anything else. “It’ssolyanka, sweet and sour beef with potatoes."
My lips part, rounding in surprise, before I can stop myself. I honestly wasn’t expecting him to bring food home for me. I think he notices because the corner of his mouth twitches, ever so slightly.
“Still worried about poison?”
I shake my head. “It smells good. Thanks.”
He sets the food in front of me then reaches into another bag and pulls out a stack of books, placing them beside the container.
"They’re all English.”
I stare in awe, unable to hide my surprise, or the sudden rush of happiness. Books. Actual books that’ll help me not die of boredom. I reach for the one on top. There’s a teenage boy on the cover, in mid-run, glancing over his shoulder like someone’s chasing him. The cover is creased like it’s been read before.
“You read this?”
He shakes his head. “It was my mother’s. She probably she read a lot when she was younger.”
Oh. Right. Grigori had mentioned Roman’s mother was Australian.
“Your English?”
“Yes.” His tone hardens. “She spoke to me in English. No more questions.”
He sits across from me, which I’m now getting used to. I wish he’d tell me something, anything, about what happened today. Like, is his maniac father still searching for me.
I reach for the notepad and pen. My voice is healing, but I don’t want to strain it.
Did you do damage control?
He reads it then answers without hesitation. “I didn’t do much damage control. It’s not the right time. I met with a friend and carried on mybusinessas usual.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. My comment did get to him.Does everyone know?
“Not yet. It’s all rumors for now. No one knows why the Pakhan is losing his mind and he won’t explain it. He has too much to lose if he tells the truth about you.”
He runs a hand along his jaw, looking straight at me. “Nala, I can’t wait any longer. I need you to start reading some people for me.”
My stomach tightens as he reaches into his jacket, pulling out several objects, laying them between us. A pen, a lighter, and a pocketknife.
"The other three brigadiers,” he says. “I need more men behind me for what I’m planning. I have to be careful who I trust. I won’t approach anyone unless I’m certain nothing gets back to the Pakhan.”
He nudges the pen toward me. "Start with Dimitri. He has the most men working under him. He’s frustrated but scared. I want to know how much pressure it’ll take before he’s willing to commit to new management.”
I stare at the objects then glance up at him. “How did you?—”
His lips curl into a lazy, knowing smile. "I have my ways."
I lower my head, weirded out by the fact that I like his smile.
Your father never got anything of yours for me to read. He only had that picture I told you about.
Roman shrugs. "I'm not surprised. He knows I would’ve noticed. He’s extremely irrational when it comes to me. He thinks I should be much lower in rank, but he can’t do anything about it without losing money and support. He’s worried I’m a better and worse version of himself.”
‘Are you?” I ask softly.
