“My sister played.”
I should stop there. I don’t. “What did she play besides Rachmaninoff?”
His jaw works once. “Everything.”
That seems like the end of that conversation.
He’s already looking back at the road, hands loose on the wheel, posture deceptively relaxed. But his eyes—when they cut over just long enough to pin me—have the same temperature as the freezer aisle at Costco.
A shiver runs straight down my spine. Not the fun,ooh-he’s-hotkind. Themight-wake-up-in-a-duffel-bagkind.
I face forward, because if I keep looking at him, I’m going to start babbling again, and I’ve seen enoughTrue Crimeto know that’s how you end up with your last words being something humiliating like,“So… do you guys get dental?”
I dig for something else, anything to make this less awkward. “I was thinking of making stuffed cabbage rolls this week. My grandma’s recipe. She used to bribe me into doing chores with them.”
No reaction.
“I’ll have to call her for the exact measurements. She’s one of those ‘eyeball it’ cooks.”
I pull out my phone and scroll to her last message.
GramCracker: The new nanny is very good, but she’s expensive. I hate to ask you for help with the cost. Love you, darling.
My chest pinches. I thumb a quick reply:
Don’t worry. I got a bonus at work. We’re fine.
Look at me, lying through my teeth like it’s a new life skill. Gold star, Mary.
I hit send before I can overthink it.
My phone buzzes immediately.
You are cute when you’re being weird. - L
“L?” I whisper. “Like… Lev?”
I glance around the car and spot a tiny camera mounted near the rearview mirror.
“Is Lev listening to us?”
Dima nods.
Of course he is. I pull up the message thread and addLevto my contacts.
I type back:
I’m not being weird.
Lev: Your heart rate says otherwise.
Me: Stop monitoring my heart rate.
Lev: Stop making it interesting.
I flip off the camera.
My phone vibrates again.
