Chyert.I force myself to look away, stepping back from the railing as if the distance could sever the pull.Business trip, I remind myself. Ludis is circling, waiting for weakness. That’s why we’re here. That’s why I need to keep them close—Clara and Elijah. Not because she’s standing there like she’s already doing something to my fucking heart.
I turn back inside, letting the door close behind me with a muted click. I need to think. About Ludis. About the photos. About anything but her.
48
Clara
“Isaid no tomatoes,” Elijah announces, holding up the offending slice like it’s a declaration of war.
“Just take it off,” I whisper back, leaning over to grab it before it hits the floor. The last thing I need is a scene. He huffs, watching me with a mix of suspicion and pride, like I’m finally proving my worth as his mommy.
He settles back into his seat, munching on a fry, and I glance at my own plate. The slow-braised short ribs look like something out of a food magazine—rich, tender, perfect—but I haven’t touched them. My stomach’s too tangled to care.
Elijah looks up, ketchup smeared across his cheek.
“Mommy, you don’t like your food?” His words dig at me, soft but insistent.
“No— Oh, I mean, yes, I do,” I stammer, grabbing a bite of the buttery polenta beneath the ribs. The flavor is as good as it looks, but I barely notice.
Elijah’s already back to his fries, humming happily like the whole world’s finally right again. “This is the best lunch ever!” he declares, kicking his legs under the table. “We should live here forever, Mommy. Bad guys make good food!”
I snort, nearly choking on the bite I just forced down. “What?”
“Yeah! We trained the bad guys to be good now!” He grins, holding up a fry like he’s making a toast. His confidence is so pure, so unshakable, that I almost believe him.
I glance out the massive windows of the Alpine Aiguille Retreat, the view almost mocking in its perfection. Snow-covered peaks stretch endlessly, the Matterhorn standing tall and jagged against the cloudless blue sky. The restaurant is perched high enough that the world below feels impossibly far away, like nothing bad could ever touch us here.
“This place is fancy,” I murmur under my breath, pushing at my food with my fork. A waiter glides by with the kind of effortless grace that makes me feel clumsy just for existing, balancing a tray with wine glasses that sparkle like diamonds in the afternoon light. Everything about the Kuznetsov’s retreat screams wealth—sleek marble floors polished to a mirror finish, exposed beams that somehow manage to look rustic and expensive at the same time, and the faint scent of something floral lingering in the air.
Elijah doesn’t notice any of it, too busy stacking fries into a tower. He beams at his creation before demolishing it with a loud crunch.
“Mommy, can we go to the snow play after this?” he asks, pointing a fry toward the activity center we’d passed earlier. “I wanna make a snowman bigger than this whole restaurant!”
“We’ll see,” I say, which he takes as a yes. His grin stretches wide, ketchup dotting the corner of his mouth like battle paint.
My thoughts drift as he chatters on, the food in front of me going cold. The penthouse we checked into earlier sits at the topof the retreat, complete with a hot tub I have no intention of using and heated floors that feel like a luxury I don’t deserve. And, of course, it’s next to Leonid’s. Because of course it is.
Why?The question burns in my head.
Why put us so close together? It’s not like I’m his wife—or anything else, for that matter. I don’t even know how long we’re supposed to be here. Judging from the clothes he brought for us—multiple suitcases filled with designer labels and enough winter gear to last a season—it might be months. The idea makes my head spin.
I shake my head, trying to clear the thought, but it doesn’t help. His words from earlier echo in my mind.
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
What does he think I’m going to do? Run? As if I could. He has our passports, for one. And for another, if I was going to run, I’d have done it days ago.No.I’m here because he put a fucking gun to my head.
Then Stephan’s name flits across my mind like a loose thread I can’t stop tugging at. What did Leonid mean when he brought him up? Does he know something?
Something’s up.
I squeeze my fork tightly, unknowingly.I poke it into the meat in front of me; my stomach twists as the thought digs deeper. A nagging pull tugs at the edges of my conscience. Stephan wouldn’t abandon me—he’s too careful for that. But it doesn’t explain why no one has come to rescue me on his behalf… or why Leonid’s question felt less like idle curiosity and more like a test.
“Mommy, you’re doing that face again,” Elijah says suddenly, frowning at me.
“What face?” I blink at him, startled.
“Like you’re looking, but you’re notlooking,” he says, tilting his head like he’s solving a puzzle. His small hand waves in frontof my face. “Do you wanna try my cheeseburger? It’ll make you happy. It’s the best ever!”
