“What?” I whispered.
“I am interested in you for more than sex,” he said the words distinctly. “I'm rather infatuated, to tell the truth.”
I went forward, feeling as if I were floating, and glided down onto the loveseat. “Are you playing with me?”
“No,” he went serious. “Absolutely not. I find you compelling as well as beautiful, Mikhail.”
“You can call me Misha,” I murmured in a daze.
Konstantin grinned brilliantly. “I was hoping I could. You can call me Kon.”
“I . . . thank you. Kon.”
“Now, do you still think we need to have this interview in another room?”
“Uh, no. This is fine.”
“Good.” He pulled a little notebook out of his leather jacket. “I'm starting with the first murder, but if you have anything to add concerning any of the murders, please tell me now.”
“I don't.”
“All right, let's just go over Lord Timofey then. How well did you know him?”
I shrugged, still processing what he'd said about finding me compelling. Had he really said he was infatuated? Now I was back where I started, contemplating treason. Shit. Also, yay! But mainly,shit. And fuck. Wait, no, that's a bad choice of curse words. Let's stick to shit.
“Misha?” Konstantin made my name into a purr, then smiled at me as if he knew exactly why I was distracted.
I cleared my throat. “I knew him well enough. Lord Timofey's an archivist who works in the castle library. Or he was one, rather. A noble who actually worked.”
“Yes, I admit I like those better than the people who just laze about all day.”
“Like me, you mean?”
“Aren't you a singer?”
“Yes, but that's . . . well, I suppose that is work. It doesn't feel like it.”
“That's the best kind of work.”
“Honestly, my position as Royal Consort is more work than my theater career.” I clamped a hand over my mouth instantly. “Oh, fuck, please forget that I said that.”
Konstantin chuckled. “I heard nothing.” Then he went serious. “He does seem like a lot of work.”
“Kings usually are. And that is the last that we will speak of this one,” I said pointedly.
“As you like.” His gaze wandered my face before settling back on my eyes.
Dear Gods, the man could seduce with his eyes alone.
“Back to Lord Timofey,” I said. “I only know what I've been told about his murder.”
“You can't think of anything unusual that happened in the days leading up to it?”
“Unusual?” I considered this. “No. I don't remember seeing him at all that week. But I had rehearsals for the opera we just performed the other night. I often returned to the castle late.”
“Do you like to sing?”
“Is that relevant?”
