The woman at the nearest window looks up at our approach, and I see the recognition flash through her eyes before she manages to school her expression.
She knows who Ana Veche is. Or who she thinks I am. I swear I see a hint of fear on her face too, like for some reason Ana is intimidating to her, just like Lev said. I hate that it brings credibility to what he's told me, but I also feel rooted now. Because if what he says is true, then maybe I really can trust him.
"Good afternoon," Lev says, stepping up to the window with me at his side. "We're here to make a deposit."
The woman's eyes flick between us, her smile now strained at the edges. "Of course, sir. And may I ask the name on the account?"
"Gravitch Holdings." Lev slides a folder across the counter with smooth and unhurried movements. "And I'd like to introducemy new colleague, Ms. Ana Veche. She'll be working closely with our organization going forward."
The woman's gaze locks onto my face, and I can see her studying my features. It's like she's comparing them to whatever mental image she has of the real Ana. I meet her eyes without flinching, letting a small, cold smile curve my lips the way Lev taught me.
"A pleasure," I say, and my voice comes out steady, nothing like the terrified tremor I expected.
"The pleasure's mine, Ms. Veche." The woman's voice is carefully neutral, but I catch the slight tremor in her fingers as she reaches for the folder. "It's… unexpected to see you here. We weren't informed you'd be visiting."
"I don't generally inform people of my movements." I let a hint of ice creep into my tone, the way Ana would. "It tends to complicate things." My tone is dry as a bone and I look down my nose at her. This feels so awkward, so out of place. I'm not a rude, callous woman. I'm kind and soft and eager to please. But it seems to do the trick.
The woman nods too quickly and busies herself with processing the deposit. I stand beside Lev with my spine straight and my expression remote, playing the part of a Donna who considers bank tellers beneath her. It feels so wrong, like wearing someone else's skin.
When the transaction's complete, Lev guides me toward the door with his hand still pressed against my back. I can feel the woman's eyes on us as we leave, and I practically hear her reaching for her phone the moment we're out of sight, making a thrill run through me.
I did it. I actually did it.
"That was perfect," Lev mumbles as we step out the door. "Absolutely perfect. You had her eating out of your hand."
His praise warms something in my chest, a glow of satisfaction that spreads through me like honey. I shouldn't care what he thinks of me. But I do. God help me, I do.
"She'll report back to the Veches," I say as we reach the car. "That's why you chose this bank, isn't it? Because they do business here too."
"Smart girl." Lev opens the door for me, his dark eyes glinting with approval. "Word will spread fast. By tomorrow, everyone who matters will know that Ana Veche has resurfaced."
I slide into the back seat, my heart still pounding with the adrenaline of what I've done, and Lev climbs in beside me. Fyodor pulls away from the curb without a word. These men aren't messing around.
"Where are we going?" I ask when Fyodor doesn't turn back toward the highway. Lev never said we were going somewhere new.
"My place," Lev says. "Fyodor's dropping us off."
My stomach clenches at the words, anxiety and anticipation tangling together in my chest. His place? I don't understand why he wants me to go there. The other place was fine with me. I'd gotten used to it, and this means adjusting to a whole new atmosphere and environment. But I don’t protest.
The drive takes us to a different part of the city, a residential stretch where the buildings are smaller and the streets are lined with bare trees that'll bloom beautifully in a few months' time. Fyodor pulls up in front of a modest townhouse with a dark bluedoor and ivy climbing the brick façade, and Lev opens his door before the car has fully stopped.
He helps me out just like he did at the bank, and this time, his hand never leaves mine as he leans into the car.
"I'll check in tomorrow," Fyodor says.
"Do that." Lev closes the door and the car pulls away, leaving us alone on the empty sidewalk.
Lev waits for a second before leading me inside, and only once we're in his living room with his chunky leather furniture and crackling fire does he let go of my hand.
"Drink?" he asks, moving toward a sideboard lined with crystal decanters.
"Please."
He pours two glasses of something amber and expensive-looking, handing one to me before settling onto the couch and patting the cushion next to him. I sit, but leave a generous space between us, and take a sip of the whiskey. The warmth spreads through my chest, loosening some of the tension I've been carrying since we left his uncle’s home earlier.
"So, what happens now?" I ask, cradling the glass in both hands. "What else will I have to do?"
"A few more outings like today. Public appearances where people can see your face and spread the word that Ana Veche is back." He swirls his drink, watching the liquid catch the firelight. "The hard work is mine to do. All you have to do is show up."
