To the fact that somewhere in the last two weeks, Dimitri Volkov has completely wormed his way into my heart.
I don’t know when it happened, but holy shit am I in trouble. Because I’m falling for Dimitri. Have fallen, really. Past tense. Done deal.
And the most shocking part? I haven’t thought about Alexei in days.
I wince at the realization, my fingers tightening around the edges of the book. I’ve been so consumed with Dimitri—with our growing intimacy, with the pregnancy scare, with learning to trust him—that Alexei has become almost... background noise. A sad memory instead of an open wound.
I should feel guilty that I’m forgetting the man I thought I loved, the father of my baby. But Idon’tfeel guilty. And that makes my stomach turn unpleasantly.
My phone buzzes on the cushion beside me, making me jump. I’ve had it back for a week now. Dimitri returned it after the lockdown started since I’m not contacting anyone anyway. Not that there’s anyone to contact.
I pick up the phone absently, expecting it to be Mrs. Kozlov asking if I want lunch. But it’s a text from an unknown number.
I frown and open it.
The words on the screen make my blood turn to ice.
I’m still watching. You were always mine.
I stare at the message, reading it over and over like the words might rearrange themselves into something less threatening. But they don’t change.
I’m still watching.
Someone’s watching me. Right now. Somewhere.
My eyes dart to the library windows—floor-to-ceiling glass that looks out onto the grounds. Anyone could be out there. In the trees. Behind the garden wall. Looking in.
You were always mine.
What the fuck does that mean? Who would say that? The bomber? The person who tried to kill us in the car?
My hands shake as I clutch the phone. The library suddenly feels too big, too exposed. All that glass. All those places someone could be watching from.
I need Dimitri.
I’m on my feet before I realize it and the book tumbles forgotten to the floor. My heart pounds as I rush downstairs toward his office, my feet barely making a sound on the marble.
I don’t bother knocking. I burst through the door like something’s chasing me.
Dimitri’s head jerks up from his desk, already half-standing. “Vera? What?—”
I thrust the phone at him, unable to speak. He takes it, and I watch his face transform as he reads the message. The concern shifts to something cold and lethal barely contained rage.
“When did you get this?” His voice is deadly calm.
I take a deep, steadying breath even though my whole body feels like I’ve just run a marathon. “Just now. Maybe two minutes ago.”
He’s already moving, pulling his own phone from his pocket and dialing. “Stay here,” he orders. “Lock the door behind me.”
I blanch. “What? No?—”
But he’s already talking into the phone in rapid-fire Russian that I can’t follow. He strides to the window and yanks the curtains closed with more force than necessary, then does the same to the other windows.
“Yes,now,” he snaps into the phone. “I don’t give a fuck what he’s doing. Get him on the line in the next sixty seconds or you’re fired.”
He hangs up and immediately starts dialing again. This time when someone answers, he doesn’t waste time on pleasantries.
“I need a trace on a number. Unknown sender. Text message sent…” He checks my phone. “Three minutes ago.” He rattles off my phone number, then the unknown sender’s number from the message. “I want location, carrier information, everything. And I want it now.”
